บท 35: Chapter 35

BOOK FOUR: PARIS

Grabbing the box of tissues, I groan when I realised I've grabbed the last one. Ugh. Somehow I've gone through a fresh box in the last six hours, and my nose is still flowing like the Nile River.

This flu is ghastly. I have a clown red nose; my voice is so hoarse and raspy that I think I have become a man. Given how hectic my schedule has been over the last three weeks, I'm not surprised that I look like I'm two shades away from being a living corpse.