Day 110: SickBay

I (Claire) just returned from buying two years worth of vitamins in town. I used to have not great health, but now I have great health, and vitamins are surely essential. I walked into the dark hotel room full of sad, sick Lara (she is getting better, slowly). I did not walk in alone, though, and instead had a nice lurking woman with a uniform on and a clipboard in tow who needed to, importantly, "Check the picture frames in the room."

"She is sick," I had said in weak protest (as I had 90 minutes earlier, when asked why she could not tell her henchmen to clean).

"No problem," she said smiling sneakily, "I am very quiet."

As the woman quietly crept around the room and bathroom (I did not realize we had art work and/or picture frames in there) marking things on her clipboard about the picture frames, Lara moaned a bit and then sat up in bed.

I told Lara my news: "I threw up at breakfast." (I did. A couple times.)

To which she responded cheerily: "Oh, that's okay I can just order food on my own, don't worry about it."

Huh. But that's sick Lara, creating in her mind a Larafilled world in which the only events of the morning revolve around my moral guilt over whether or not I should bring her breakfast in bed. Sometimes, we hear what we want to hear.

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