“Is mono a good diet?” she asked me, brown eyes widening. “What?” I asked, confused. “Are you going to lose a ton of weight?” I shrugged, more in lack of comprehension than anything else. “Marina you’re a size zero at most, so anyway . . . ” I lost my point.
“I know but I feel so hippy,” she said pouting.
I know what happened and what was said, but I can’t contextualize anything with mono – it’s all fever dreams, all the time, only this time it isn’t the tropics and there is no radio warbling oldies and no one is spoon feeding me white rice in water. And I can’t blame a mosquito, only “the industry”. The sneeze.