Written by Jacob Ibrag
Just five more days. Work will have to wait
and miss me. Planned every second of the next week.
Four days left, I wake with a sore throat. No big deal,
it’ll expire before day’s end. Three days remain, I wake
with a fever. Are you kidding me? Universe, please relax.
Let me win, just this one time. Forced to be on sick leave.
One day left, I wake in a hospital bed. How did I get here?
I scream, ‘Need to pack!’ Nurse whispers, ‘Man plans,
God laughs.’ Remembering, it was Denise. HR
girl insidiously coughed at me. Vacation,
day one. Recovery.
Photography by Fran Carneros