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Si Mok had heard the saying that three things can't be hidden: love, a cough, and . . . he couldn’t remember the third thing. That’s how he knew it. He was sick. The fog had descended slowly over a few hours. He thought he was tired, and he went to sleep. He went under much more quickly than usual. The sore throat woke him up in the night. A saltwater gargle took the edge off, but he was still uncomfortable.
He felt as if he had only closed his eyes for a moment when his alarm went off. He had set it later to call in sick. Then, he heard a knock on the door.
“Si Mok, are you in there?” his roommate called.
He sighed to himself. His voice wasn’t strong enough to carry through the door, so he shuffled over.
“Hey, I thought I heard you in there. Are you off today? You don’t look well,” she said.
“I’ve caught a cold,” he replied through the t-shirt he had pulled over his nose and mouth. She didn’t recoil as some people might have.
“Oh no. I’m sorry. Do you need anything?”
“I’m alright. I’ll go out later.”
“No, I insist. My first meeting is at ten. I can pick you up some stuff and still make it in time.”
“It’s fine,” he replied.
Then she growled. Her sunny demeanor disappeared, and he realized she wouldn’t take no for an answer and he was being “annoying.”
“Okay,” he said.
After she left, he got on the phone and let the office know he wasn’t coming in. Then he drank some water and dragged himself back to bed.
When he woke up again, he couldn’t immediately tell how much time had passed. But by the growling in his stomach, he realized he had slept for hours. He stumbled back out to the living room and found the table laden with stuff. Medicine, facial tissues, cough drops, herbal tea, a sports drink, and a bowl of porridge. There was no room left on the table after he unpacked one of the bags. He wondered why she had spent so much. He was sure he would be better in two days. . . three days, tops. He rarely got sick, and when he did, he got over it quickly.
Si Mok decided the first thing to do was get himself fed and started with the now lukewarm porridge in a takeout bowl. The first bite was unpleasant. The second bite was horrid. The third bite made him gag. Ugh. Who said porridge was sick people’s food?! It was gelatinous, gloppy, and bland. Si Mok would have preferred a warming soup that would clear his sinuses and soothe his throat. Porridge, especially one gone cold, was about the last thing he wished to eat. He gave up on the porridge and plugged in the kettle for some tea. He rummaged in the fridge and cupboards a bit and found some snacks.
----------------------------------------------------
Just as he thought, two days later, he was back to his old self. His memory was sharp, and his faculties were clear. He was back in the office and able to work late without any extra fatigue.
When he got home that evening, he found Yeo Jin on the couch surrounded by a pile of tissues. Oh boy.
“Si Mok, you’re back?” Yeo Jin’s voice was weak and nasal.
“Yes. Did you catch a cold?” he asked.
“Of course I did,” she sounded accusatory.
“It wasn’t from me,” he replied.
“Of course it was.”
“Can I get you anything?”
“There’s still medicine in the cupboard, so I took that, but you know, porridge would make me feel better.”
Si Mok held back a sigh and pushed his feet back into his shoes.
“I’ll be back soon,” he said as he left to get the horrible porridge she craved.