"Charlie, I don't feel so good."

Azura yawned. She had been

staying at my house for ten

months. Her eyes grew weary

as she touched her temple with

a palm. Her eyes flinched at

the touch.

From recognizing my look of

worry and confusion, she replied,

"I don't know why. I feel like

I'm going to—"

And she ran inside the

bathroom; I ran after her,

holding up her hair.

"throw up," she finished. "Not a fever,

is it?" she questioned.

I touched her forehead

and shook my head.

She quickly rinsed her mouth

and as soon as she took a step.

Her head spun into woven ribbons

and she came unraveling like

a worn out sweater.

Azura, I wanted to scream.

Her eyes closed as her

head touched the ground

underneath her shivering

feet.