That Time of The Year

I woke up curled in the fetal position next to one of the Dumpsters outside of Darwin. This is not one of my favorite positions, and one that I shall do all in my power to avoid in the future.

I stood up and looked at the sky. It was pale. The sort of pale that said that the time was almost dawn. I looked around and shivered. There were no cars in the car park and the first of the morning commuters sped by in the road behind the building. I took out my mobile, looked at the time, and saw it was five in the morning.

Next, I checked the back of my neck and felt what seemed like a minor scar. I prayed that whoever kept slipping me hallucinogens would stop sometime soon. As interesting as being threatened by a minotaur was, there were other things I’d rather to do with my time.

I stood up and groaned and made my way back to the flat. When I arrived, Chacko stood at the opposite end of the hallway, staring out of the window facing the flat block opposite us. “Hey, Chacko,” I said. “What’s up?”

He turned around, holding a mug of steaming tea. He let loose a horrible stream of coughs. “Hi. I’m sick.” He walked up to me and coughed again. “How are you?”

I blinked and sighed. “Well, I’m sick now.”

“That is too bad. I am going to go drink Lemsip and watch a film.” He walked into his room, I did the same, got undressed, laid down, and started coughing.

“God damnit,” I said.

Yep, it was flu season.