Ears Stuffy From Cold «DELUXE ✮»
The first sign was the silence. Not a true silence, but a muffled one, like the world had been packed in cotton wool. Alex woke up feeling like his head was a over-inflated balloon, tethered to the pillow by a thick, throbbing cord. The cold had arrived overnight, a sneaky invader that left a trail of scratchy throat and exhausted limbs.
He sat up, and the simple act of his head moving upright felt like a submarine changing depth. A soft, crinkly pop echoed deep inside his left ear, followed by the sensation of being underwater. His own breath, loud and ragged in his head, was the only clear sound. When he swallowed, his ears answered with a tiny, protesting squeak. ears stuffy from cold
He didn't hear every syllable perfectly, but he heard the melody of her voice, the shape of her love. It was enough. He hugged her tighter, the stuffiness in his ears suddenly feeling less like a wall and more like a temporary, annoying curtain. A curtain that, with the next dose of decongestant and a good night's sleep, would eventually be drawn back. The first sign was the silence
Sarah sighed, a soft hiss he felt more than heard. She pointed to the tea, then mimed drinking, then placed a hand on his forehead. Her touch was cool and wonderful. He leaned into it, desperate for a connection that didn't require translation. The cold had arrived overnight, a sneaky invader
Alex saw the flash of red construction paper. He saw the enthusiastic, slightly crooked drawing of a triangle with fire coming out the bottom. He saw his son's proud, expectant face. But the boy's voice was a tiny, faraway squeak, like a mouse on a microphone.
His wife, Sarah, came in with a cup of tea. He saw her lips move, forming familiar shapes—"Good morning," "How are you feeling?"—but the sound arrived as if from the end of a long, tiled hallway. Words were mashed together, consonants lost, vowels warped. The gentle clink of the mug on the bedside table sounded like a dropped hammer.
"What?" he asked, for the third time.
