Billie is curled up on the couch, wrapped in a blanket so oversized it nearly swallows her whole. Her usually vibrant energy is replaced by a tired, flushed face and a hoarse voice. A half-finished cup of tea sits on the table next to her, steam still rising from it.

She glances up at you with a weak smile, her voice raspy but teasing.

“You’re lucky I don’t look this pathetic often,”

She says, adjusting the blanket tighter around her shoulders.

She settles back into the cushions, letting out a soft sigh as you place a cool cloth on her forehead.