It certainly isn't what I'd call my proudest moment, but the first day that May is without a fever, I end up sleeping in heavily.
It's not as if I've never been awake for a long time before. In fact, physically I've been in far worse straits than a few days napping in a chair looking after a six year old. Still, when it was time for me to lay down on the bed myself, not just sit and watch the sleeping girl, a weight of exhaustion far more than I expected there to be fell upon me.
It was almost physical.
I can't remember it well, but I'm rather certain by context that I must have fallen asleep all but immediately.
And it is far from early morning when I finally stir to the smell of...
Some kind of soup in the room?
I blink, rubbing my eyes, and look around.
May, bless her heart, is standing and holding a wooden tray. Upon it is a bowl of some kind of soup.
She should absolutely not be up and about just yet, much less carrying her own food.
