It’s 3:23 a.m. Oliver is snoring. It woke me up, but it’s oddly comforting. Much more comforting than getting a thermometer jabbed in my mouth and a cuff wrapped around my arm every five minutes. I hop on Twitter for no reason in particular, but everything just annoys me. Becca and Jenna tried to start a Kickstarter thing to “find a cure for tropical mono,” but so far they have only raised ten dollars. Of course they had to hang out to make the page, and take a million pictures and post them saying how worried “we” are. The “we” reminds me of my dad and Goldy.

I look at the ceiling, look at my phone again to check the time. It’s 3:42, and Oliver’s still snoring. I can’t sleep, but somehow I don’t care.