Fever

I lay in bed, exhausted, burning with fever.

A crash of pots, pans.

“Darling, omelette, dry toast. We ran out of butter,” he grins sheepishly, handing me the tray.

Then, he looks at me, eyes like smouldering embers.

I am in love.

Participating Entry – YeahWrite #221 Microstories Challenge

Prompt:
Answer this question in exactly 42 words
“How Hot Is It?”