John was sick in bed, with a cold. He had felt sniffly the night earlier with Mary but he couldn’t help replaying the day’s events in his head.
After work, Mary had been there smiling up at him in a pretty green dress, and he had wrapped his arm around her waist and taken her to the park. After pushing her on the swing, which seemed to be a “cliched romance story event”, they had taken a walk to the ice cream park, and had stayed there chatting, eating ice creams. Mint for Mary, vanilla for him.
He strictly remembered her saying, “I don’t like vanilla. But I’ll eat if it’s good. But it has to be good.”
He countered her with, “All vanillas are good.”
Towards the end of the day, he had started getting the chills, and she had taken him home, ending their day, a bit earlier than he’d liked.
A ping went off on his phone.
Text from Mary (10:38AM): Are you alright? Do I need to make you soup?
Text from John (10:40AM): Yes.