I pulled out a container of tapioca pudding, peeled of the top, and dug my plastic blue spoon in.
The bus interior was warm and I dozed off. When I opened my eyes we were at the station and it was time to get out into the cold and run again. Dash, dash, dash! I squeezed my way into the skytrain just as the doors closed shut. A kind lady beside me asked if I was okay as I tried to catch my breathe. "Just out of shape!" I wheezed. She smiled at me understandingly.
I shuffled around on the crowded skytrain, and caught my breathe just in time to feel strangely out of sorts. I gulped repeatedly as I fought back a wave of nausea. "Uh oh!" I thought. A crowded skytrain was not a good place to throw up. I kept swallowing back the feeling of nausea as a curious boy looked up at me from his seat. My vision began to swim and I could see bright spots in my vision - I needed to get out right away!
The skytrain pulled into Sperling station just in time for me to half stumble, half push my way out of the train. I ran to the nearest wall and hunched over, dry heaving. The cold air seemed to help, however, and I felt the nausea reduce. I leaned my head against the cold wall and closed my eyes.
People rushed up the escalators and pushed into the next train. I continued to lean against the wall, watching them dully. Once they were gone, I dragged my feet over to a bench and sat down. More people gathered on the platform and, since I didn't feel like throwing up anymore, I got onto the next train and went to work.
I was a little bit late, but that was okay.
Now I'm sitting here, still in my coat. Feeling toasty warm, but not so sure that I'm going to be okay. I'm hoping that I'm just being paranoid, but a part of me thinks that I should be home sleeping this off. I really don't want to get sick.
If there's one thing I hate, it's the flu.