bruised

The gremlin in my lungs still hasn't moved out after a week. I'm losing patience with the way it wakes me at 3:00am and drags me out of bed, gasping for air, pacing around the apartment trying to expel the demon without disturbing S. I'm getting better, I know, and these things do take time. But this is the good part of fall--the cold frosty mornings with the air that just mmm, buzzes in your lungs (in your healthy, pink lungs), and the warmth of the sun cutting through in the afternoons, dancing through the crunchy leaves under the clear blue skies. I miss that. I am confined to the bus, behind a tissue shield, watching the skies from a box. Die, gremlin.