I was ill for about two weeks.
I suspected that it was CoVid, as the fatigue and headaches were highly unusual.
I slept through the days, getting up only to eat and bathe.
I have never experienced this before.

But the doctors didn't want to test me as I'm not in the high-risk category.
The test-kits are limited, hence I can understand their constraints.
I didn't care if I'm infected nor that I may die.
I worry more about infecting others.

Death has always been the desired last page of this long unfulfilling book of mine.
The author is exhausted.
More than exhaustion.
It's yielding.

Today, I'm feeling better.
There's an odd taste of disappointment.
Sigh.
I'm cleaning, washing, tidying...cooking...back to work preparation.
Back to my usual again.
Living again.
Moving forward again.

Sigh.
Dare I hope?