Sherl looked into the pot boiling before her. She felt awful. Her boyfriend Howie was sick as can be, and he caught it from her. For the last four days, she had had the flu and cold from hell. He had recorded every day, and then rushed to her apartment to take care of her. Now she was fine, and he was sick as a dog. Shrugging, she slowly stirred the chicken broth cooking before her. A critical brown eye was cast to the cookbook. Before today cooking had been his thing, she could live off microwave food and take-out.

"Sherl?" The voice was weak, coming from around the corner, just as his coughing fit ended.

"Yes, honey?" Setting down the spoon, she turned to walk over.

"Call 911." He appeared in the door, hand covering his mouth, standing up straight apparently causing him pain.

She rushed to his side, holding him tight. "What's wrong?"

He looked away, spitting into the sink. The saliva and goo came away red.