By now food was the last thing on her mind. She picked at the eggs, ate half the wheat toast, took two sips of orange juice and left the rest. There was a weight on her chest making it uncomfortable to breathe, like something heavy was sitting on top of her, pressing hard against her rib cage. Even swallowing became a conscious effort. She caught herself listening to her own heartbeat. She put two fingers on the pulse point at her throat. Did she expect to feel or hear the virus multiplying inside her? Is that what the extra weight was?Colonel Platt had asked if there was anyone she wanted to call or perhaps anyone she needed him to call for her. Off the top of her head she couldn’t think of a single person. Maybe Gwen. Certainly not Nick Morrelli. Probably not her stepbrother who she had only just met within the last year. How would that conversation go?“Hey, bro, guess what? I’ve been quarantined with a highly infectious virus. Might not be able to do that first Thanksgiving get-together after all.”And she wouldn’t call her mother.
