In sickness and in health, we promised, but as he lies in bed with a cough that strains his vocal cords, I sit 15 feet away in our hotel suite’s living room helpless and feeling as though I lied at the altar.
Our honeymoon ended days ago, but his positive test forced us to extend the trip and quarantine in a foreign land where the money is quickly running out.
“Anita,” his raspy voice calls.
I put on my mask and gloves. It’s time for his medicine. I hope a hot bowl of cabbage soup will help it go down.
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