The hum of the refrigerator was soft in the background.

She sat on the couch, with his head resting in her lap.

His eyes were closed, was he asleep?

She hoped so; he was burning with a fever.

He whimpered.

She stroked his hair.

It was softsoftsoft.

She adjusted herself more comfortably on the couch and sighed.

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Inwardly he smirked, so happy to play the invalid.

She bought it.