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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