Gloria did not like being sick.  Nobody did, probably, but she just hated this so much.  She should have known, going down to class outdoors this morning, that she was getting ill.  That hour out in the snow had felt so uncomfortable and now her chest hurt all over with sharp stabbing pains.  Even sitting up, when Connor helped her, made her gasp, and then the gasping had her coughing so that when she tried to sip the water like she was told, she ended up coughing it all right back out in a spluttering mess.  

Pushing the glass away, Gloria wiped her mouth on the sheet and resisted the urge to cough again.  It hurt too much.  She pulled the sheet up over her head, trying to remember when she’d come to the Infirmary.  Fuzzy bits and pieces in between cycles of sleep were all that she had to piece together.  Why was she so tired?  

Once the coughing settled down,  Gloria slipped the sheet off of her face, pushing it down to her waist, noting the Infirmary gown and Connor’s unhappy expression.  “I think I have a cold,” she whispered.  The Infirmary was even less warm than the rest of the castle seemed to be lately.  “Did she give me the Pepper Up yet?  I want to be done.”



Gloria Watkins