I am waiting for illness. I was adjacent to, behind, in front of, beneath, atop, and in a manner of speaking surrounded by B, and now B has a terrible cold, so naturally I am doomed. We're no better than earthworms nudging cloacas, how vile biology is. The clock is ticking, contagion has made inroads, it's only a matter of time before symptoms explode. I expect to expectorate. My immune system is plucky, it hangs in there despite no support from me whatsoever. If a positive attitude keeps you strong I wonder why I'm not sick every single moment. I keep feeling phantom symptoms, a tickle in my throat, a sluggishness so uncharacteristic of me, everyone knows about my skyhigh pep levels, my infectious vitality and joie de vivre. Infectious, I'm probably infectious now myself, the virus is using my body as a launching pad from which to attack my loved ones. My semipermeable membranes have been breached, my somatic integrity violated. I'll just stop thinking about it, there's no point. It's just a bad cold after all, even if I get sick it's not such a big deal and I might not even come down with anything. Nature's caprice. When people feel a cold or flu coming on they always say no no no, I can't afford to be sick right now. Automatic, every time. No one, apparently, can afford to be sick, ever. Their time is simply too important, their healthy presence crucial for the proper unfolding of history. Not me, I can afford to be sick, I will not be missed anywhere by anybody for any reason.