Misery. Coughs wracked Teresa's body. Chills danced over her skin.
The first day she thought she was dying. The second day she wished she would die. The third day she felt like death warmed over.
It was the worst flu ever.
She sat before the television, hostage to daytime programming. Putting in a DVD was too much effort. Coughing kept her from sleeping.
The doorbell rang. She didn't get up.
The locks clicked but she couldn't even raise her gun. The door opened. A curly blond head stuck in.
"Cavalry's here, Lisbon." Jane held up a foam container. "Chicken soup?"