I want to see Oliver, though it really isn’t the best idea to see him right now. Oliver is somewhat of an insomniac, and there is a good chance that he isn’t asleep. I want to go to his room and just hang out with him. I want to be near him. Then, I feel a hand on my arm. Oh darn, I’ve woken Peter up. “Baby, why are you sitting up in bed?â€? he asks me, sounding sleepy. “I’m having trouble sleeping sweetieâ€?, I respond. “I can help with thatâ€?, he says, sitting up and rubbing my shoulders.

“Do you want to tell me what’s wrong?” he asks. “Nothing’s wrong love. I just can’t sleep,” I answer. I close my eyes, trying to focus on how nice it feels to have Peter rubbing my shoulders. Instead, my nausea returns. “Peter, I don’t feel so well,â€? I whine. “What’s wrong? Talk to me, Dreamy. Are you okay? Peter asks, his voise full of concern.â€? I’m afraid to open my mouth, even to talk.

I suddenly leap out of bed. Running into the bathroom, I promptly throw up.