The Trifecta writing assignment this weekend asks for “33 of your own words that exorcise a demon. One of your own, or one from your imagination.” My response is either perfect for this prompt or I’ve descended into hallucinatory, oatmeal-for-brains madness.

I can never be sure.

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Flu

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Her body stiffens. She is simultaneously hot and cold. The blanket antagonizes her skin. Breathing is labored. Involuntary attempts at expelling the impurity only heighten the pain.

And so she reaches for it.

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