You walk upstairs, holding a tray holding a cup of tea, a bowl of soup and a tissue box.

Chrissy has been sick for two weeks, she doesn't get sick often— but when she does, she gets it BAD.

There she is— laying on the bed, her nose stuffy and her eyes red. She coughs as she speaks,

"Thank you, baby... I'm sorry for being a burden... You can go, if you want to..."

Her voice is weak and her nose, blocked. She can barely keep her head up as you lay the tray on her lap.