Unipotabrine

Hot... So...damn...hot... Frankly, hot was not even a strong enough word to full depict these grueling sensations your body tortured you with, but honestly, your mind was too much of a muddle to conjure up anything else. Hot. Falling ill as a child proved, in its own strange way, a vacation. You at least did not have to go to school and face responsibilities. But, as an adult, with those responsibilities piling high, sickness proved nothing more than anxiety inducing, if not panic attack worthy. All you could obsess over were the unanswered e-mails and letters, the taxes, the rent, the texts and voice mails cramming your phone. All the

    "Genos."    The sound of your voice causes Genos to frown in his sleep, but he doesn’t wake.  You let out a soft hmph and shift in your futon. The action causes your breath to take the form of a white puff before it dissipates in the air and you let out a whine.    “Genos!”    It’s nothing more than a loud whisper, but you’re rewarded with Genos stirring a bit. He blinks when you say his name a third time, trying to distinguish dream from reality before turning his head to face you.    “(Name)? What is it?”    The sound of his sleep filled voice makes your stomach clench in guilt. You sh