The cough in the morning, with neither alcohol nor cigarettes to blame for it. Were either of them taken, it would be easy. Now it is just the cold that has been gripping the body since before the year started. Since before Christmas.
Resolve to see the doctor on Monday.
Tomorrow.
Realise that there is no one to speak the truth too.
Unhappy, go to the kitchen, look out through the window of the glass door into the sitting room, there is the son reclining on the couch looking at something on television, a slight murmur in the background is the sound over the headphone he is wearing.
Continue with the morning things a cup of coffee, return to the bedroom, the wife asleep the cat standing at the door wanting to go out.
Nothing to be happy about.
Nothing
A Sunday wasted on illness and chores, that is what it will be.
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