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I froze.
Delivery guy, most likely. I'd ordered emergency ice cream and painkillers last night in a fit of deliriously optimistic thinking, though I couldn't really remember if I'd actually pressed "place order" or just stared at the screen until my eyes turned watery.
With a monumental effort, I pushed myself up, wincing as a new wave of heat rolled through me. My legs were shaking when I finally stood. My hair was a disaster, damp strands sticking to my forehead and neck and I could feel the flush creeping up my cheeks and throat like I was blushing from embarrassment.
I looked like a wet rat that had just lost a battle with a sauna. Fantastic.
I shuffled to the door on unsteady legs, one hand against the wall to steady myself while the other was futilely tugging at the hem of my shirt as if that would somehow make me presentable. A firmer knock made me jump.
"C...coming," I managed to croak, my voice hoarse from disuse and unshed tears.
