Under the Weather
Jul 14, 2017 19:21:08 GMT -6
Post by James Vaughn on Jul 14, 2017 19:21:08 GMT -6
May 10th, 1875
Early afternoon
Feeling very tired, despite the fact that he’d gone to bed earlier than usual last night, not to mention the last three nights, James forced himself to get up that morning. His appetite was again nonexistent, so he choked down a couple of bites of an apple on his way before he gave it up, tossing it to one of the horses in the corral at the livery. After another brief rest, for once uncaring that this would make him late for work, James straightened away from the railing and resumed his walk. His pace was much slower than his usual brisk walk, and he paused several more times, hanging on hitching posts, or leaning against buildings, pale faced and feeling more than a little shaky, rubbing at his aching chest, unaware that he’d done so.
“Good morning Mr. Hickman.” He exchanged greetings with the lawyer he worked for when he reached the town’s law office, his fair complexion unusually flushed from the walk and his un-diagnosed, untreated illness. With a grimace for his sore throat he smothered yet another cough as he made his way to his desk in the back of the office, surrounded by the research materials that he used most often in his work. James sat down at his small, neatly ordered desk, resisting the urge to simply lay his head down on it, and started to do research. He tried to anyway, but he kept losing his concentration due to the shivers and the nearly constant need to smother the urge to cough.
He struggled through the work on his desk for about four and a half hours before he could no longer function even remotely normally and he started to cough violently, struggling to breathe though the wracking cough. James shot to his feet, swayed, then crumpled to the floor, just missing taking a huge pile of books down with him when he passed out.
Consciousness returned slowly for James, the first thing that he became aware of as he drifted back was the feel of something small, round and cold as the whatever it was moved over the bare skin of his back. It took another long moment for it to register that he was no longer wearing his shirt. Fear shot through him and he jerked upright, his head whipping around to find himself nose to nose with a young woman who seemed vaguely familiar. The sudden movement brought another coughing fit before either of them could speak and James leaned over the side of the bed, his thin chest heaving from the force of his coughing and his struggles to breathe through it.
@misty
Early afternoon
Feeling very tired, despite the fact that he’d gone to bed earlier than usual last night, not to mention the last three nights, James forced himself to get up that morning. His appetite was again nonexistent, so he choked down a couple of bites of an apple on his way before he gave it up, tossing it to one of the horses in the corral at the livery. After another brief rest, for once uncaring that this would make him late for work, James straightened away from the railing and resumed his walk. His pace was much slower than his usual brisk walk, and he paused several more times, hanging on hitching posts, or leaning against buildings, pale faced and feeling more than a little shaky, rubbing at his aching chest, unaware that he’d done so.
“Good morning Mr. Hickman.” He exchanged greetings with the lawyer he worked for when he reached the town’s law office, his fair complexion unusually flushed from the walk and his un-diagnosed, untreated illness. With a grimace for his sore throat he smothered yet another cough as he made his way to his desk in the back of the office, surrounded by the research materials that he used most often in his work. James sat down at his small, neatly ordered desk, resisting the urge to simply lay his head down on it, and started to do research. He tried to anyway, but he kept losing his concentration due to the shivers and the nearly constant need to smother the urge to cough.
He struggled through the work on his desk for about four and a half hours before he could no longer function even remotely normally and he started to cough violently, struggling to breathe though the wracking cough. James shot to his feet, swayed, then crumpled to the floor, just missing taking a huge pile of books down with him when he passed out.
Consciousness returned slowly for James, the first thing that he became aware of as he drifted back was the feel of something small, round and cold as the whatever it was moved over the bare skin of his back. It took another long moment for it to register that he was no longer wearing his shirt. Fear shot through him and he jerked upright, his head whipping around to find himself nose to nose with a young woman who seemed vaguely familiar. The sudden movement brought another coughing fit before either of them could speak and James leaned over the side of the bed, his thin chest heaving from the force of his coughing and his struggles to breathe through it.
@misty