Hanging By A Thread

I lost track of time those first few days. Everything was a blur until his family arrived. I didn’t dare fall asleep in case he needed me for anything.

He was sweating buckets despite being given over a gram of paracetamol to fight the fever, and even with an oxygen mask over his handsome face, he was still struggling to breathe.

As soon as his mother saw us, she gave me a big warm hug that woke me up from the daze I had been in.

“How is he?” she asked, and I sighed.

“They don’t know what’s wrong with him yet. He's having breathing difficulties and that is what’s worrying everybody.” I grabbed his hand and caressed his fingers, praying to any and all deities I never even believed in to save him.