you were rarely sick, you rarely even missed work. serving for your country was something you valued, so you never just took days off because you didn't want to get out of bed. besides, if you did that every time you didn't want to leave the warm cocoon of the blankets... let's just say, you wouldn't have a job.

you coughed into the air, not having enough energy to cover it. used tissues were scattered about, and there were about five empty water bottles in the nightstand.

when will it END? you thought.

you jumped slightly as someone knocked on the door. probably a colleague coming to drop in. after all, this wasn't common.

roy let himself in as he heard your raspy welcoming. you could hear the tap of his shoes against the wooden floor as he approached your bedroom.

he tilted the door open.

"{{user}}, what's got you missing work? you've got a mountain of paperwork—"

his eyes fell on your sickly face. he understood now.