I feel a cool hand on my forehead, and the smell of toast in the air. Opening my eyes I find myself looking into a pair of blue-green coloured ones.
Isabelle.
She places a cool washcloth on my face and gives me a smile of relief.
"Good morning." She whispers and I look around. I was back on the couch, and the more I thought about, the more I realized it probably took her all night to get me on it.
I'm heavier than I look.
She disappears from my side and walks back with a plate piled high with toast, most likely the whole loaf. She either cooks when she's nervous, or she thought I was going to be very hungry after four days of a comatose state.
She was right.
"I hope you're hungry." She states, looking sheepish at her toast pile. I nod and she lowers it for me, letting me take a piec
