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Literature Text
Elenore was groggy and sick. She was curled up on the couch at home, feeling miserable. She was waiting for Parker to arrive with soup. When he did arrive, he let himself in and ventured to the living room. He took a seat on the edge of the couch.
“Hey, baby, how’re you feeling?”
Elenore groaned in response.
Parker brushed hair out of her face and stroked her cheek lightly. She was warm with a fever. However, she was curled up so tightly, it suggested she felt cold.
“I brought you a blanket and soup,” Parker murmured.
He draped the blanket he’d brought from home over Elenore. It was soft and thick. It smelled like him. Elenore pulled it close to her face and shut her eyes. The blanket made her feel protected.
She refused the soup when offered, content with lying comfortably under the blanket until she felt better. And she did just that.
“Hey, baby, how’re you feeling?”
Elenore groaned in response.
Parker brushed hair out of her face and stroked her cheek lightly. She was warm with a fever. However, she was curled up so tightly, it suggested she felt cold.
“I brought you a blanket and soup,” Parker murmured.
He draped the blanket he’d brought from home over Elenore. It was soft and thick. It smelled like him. Elenore pulled it close to her face and shut her eyes. The blanket made her feel protected.
She refused the soup when offered, content with lying comfortably under the blanket until she felt better. And she did just that.
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Parker Nielson and Elenore Tobberman (c) *themooseshark
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