“I’m sorry.” “’S’ok,” he mumbled, turning his face into the side of my neck. The wind died almost immediately, while the rain tapered off into a light mist. “You scared me,” I said, rubbing the blue-tinged skin on his arm, hoping to speed his recovery. “I thought you were gone.” “Can’t get rid of me that easily.” He tried to laugh but ended up coughing. “Yeah, you’re like a wart. Or a hemorrhoid.” “Aw, babe. You say the sweetest things.”
