Billie Bob Taylor
"Você quer alguma coisa para comer, meu amor?" I ran my fingers through Benedito's hair as he breathed heavily through his mouth because his nose was blocked. (Do you want anything to eat my love?)
"Não," he shook his head. (No.)
"Você não come desde o almoço, querida. Isso vai te ajudar com a sua medicação." I sighed before I stood up from the bed. "How about I make you a small fruit salad? Will you eat that?" (You haven't eaten since lunch baby. It will help you with your medication.)
He looked at me with a small pout before he nodded. I gave him a smile before I left the room. It was still early in the evening and so far Benedito's temperature had been going up and down like crazy.
The medication Otto gave him helped so far but since he had bronchitis, he could not prescript any antibiotics so we just had to wait for Benedito's body to fight off the infection.
