George had enough of all this nonsense. What the hell was going on with him? The incessant fever, the nausea, and then the visions? That was way off the limit of acceptability.
George decided that he needed to get a grip. The thing about London is that you can buy whatever service you may need. He was therefore going to get himself a caring stranger to squeeze fruit juices, buy medicines and make his bed.
There. Back to reality. Back to normality.
George also decided that three days of illness were more than enough. He was going to return to work. To her bed. To his mates.
But sometimes our believes, our convictions are not meant to translate into reality. Because our narrow minds are just unable to see the big picture.
George was most certainly in for a surprise.
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