It was only a couple days.
Before she was well enough.
To go back home.
She was apparently dehydrated.
And just needed to rest.
And she wouldn't rest on her own.
I stuck to her like glue.
Asking her if she was ok.
Every ten seconds.
I was being ridiculous.
But who could help.
Not wanting to help her?
You wouldn't even know she was sick.
By the way.
She lounged upside down on the couch.
Watching my methodical moves.
Concentrating on everything I did.
Like it was fascinating.
Her house was the cleanest thing.
I have ever laid my eyes upon.
In my entire life.
Things were alphabetized.
Color coded.
Organized.
I was almost afraid to touch anything.
I couldn't help but notice.
That her legs went on forever.
Because she wasn't wearing pants.
"Too uncomfortable."
She said when I asked.
Why she didn't wear them in her house.
It was getting late.
I didn't really think.
She wanted me to stay with her.
But I had to.
Because of what could happen.
If she was left alone.
"Aren't you tired?"
I asked her.
Watching her eyes fill with fire.
It would be a long night.
"No way.
Sleep is for wimps!"
She said loudly.
I wasn't in the mood for arguing.
So I just picked her up.
And carried her up the stairs myself.
With her kicking and squirming the whole way.
A very long night indeed.
