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“He hasn’t been well for over a week,” Sarah said as she poured the hot water over the loose tea leaves.

“Sorry to hear.” Brianna replied.

“It isn’t serious, but it’s sure taken him off his feet. And he looks about the color of skim milk.”

“And your sure it’s not serious? Have you guys been to a doctor?”

“It’s nothing. Just one of those bugs going around. Dickie has always been sickly.”

The comment hung in the air like a foul odor as Brianna watched the tea leaves steep in the near boiling water. What was there to say really?

“So, is this going to interfere with your trip?” She finally figured out something to say. Sarah laughed at the suggestion.

“Are you kidding? The sun and the mountains are what he needs the most. He actually wanted to limp down here last night to help me load up the van.”

“Well, I suppose it’ll be good just to get away from things for a while,” Brianna said.

“I agree.”

Brianna felt her gut twist at the overly chirpy tone from her coworker. She had been reluctant to come here, but Sarah had been relentless, and there wasn’t exactly an unending supply of plausible excuses. She couldn’t even claim that she wasn’t feeling well, as the last time, Sarah had sent her private physician over to check on her. This visit was already going exactly as awkwardly as she had been expecting. Maybe even worse.

“So…” She looked around the room, desperate for inspiration, something to talk about, calculating exactly how long it might take before it stopped being rude to just leave. She took a closer look at the pictures and for just a moment, her attention was piqued.

“Where were all these pictures taken?” She asked.

“Oh, all over. We travel so much, and these are from just some of the trips. Isn’t it just the best?”

“But your husband. I don’t see them in any of the photos. Wasn’t he with you?”

“Oh, Dickie does better behind the camera then in front of it.” As she said this, Sarah let out a honking bray of laughter, so absurd sounding that the Brianna was barely able to cut off the giggle that rose to her lips.

“Here, try some of the biscuits,” Sarah said as she slid the tray of hockey puck looking pastries across the table. Brianna forced herself to choose one. She bit down, slowly, so as to conceal the sound like granite splitting in her mouth.

“We thought about buying another time-share this year, but it’s so hard to keep them all straight, don’t you know?” The laugh again and, this time, it was only the mouthful of stale biscuit in her mouth that stopped her laughter from spilling out.

“It’s good that you’re able to take so much time off,” Brianna said. How much more of this would she have to endure? At this point, she would have even welcomed a phone call that someone had been in a car accident. Anything to give her an excuse to leave.

“You meet so many interesting people,” Sarah said, seemingly oblivious to Brianna’s comment. “Sometimes, it’s a wonder that you can even come home after everything you get to experience. You really just don’t understand the world unless you really been out in it.”

Brianna had always found sentiments like that to be a conceit of the well-to-do. It was easy to blather on about the importance of seeing the world when you had the means to drop whatever you were doing, hop onto a jet and enjoy the world from the serenity of your four-star hotel balcony. It wasn’t so much that Sarah was experiencing the world as much as she was likely zip-lining over it. On her last trip, Sarah had brought gifts into the office, trinkets that Brianna was sure had originated in an airport gift shop.

Sarah was blathering on about something, probably the expense of walking tours or swimming with dolphins, but it was getting harder to focus on the words. In fact, she found that what had started as an odd queasiness had suddenly blossomed into the stark imminence of throwing up.

“Are you all right?” Brianna could hear the sounds of concern in Sarah’s voice. She could see the expression on her face to match it, but it looked like it had been painted on, by a poor artist. She just wanted to get out of this house, out into the fresh air. That would make her feel better.

“I just need to go home,” she said, the heel of her hand pressed her to her forehead. “I’m sorry, I just need to—”

“Oh, I understand.” She said the words, but the hurt expression on her face told otherwise. “But at least come upstairs for a minute. Dickie has been wanting to meet you, as much as I talk about you.”

Brianna nodded and allowed Sarah to lead her upstairs. As they reached the top, she felt the outer edges of frigid cold air, like a freezer. She shivered and looked around, wondering how sick she was getting.

“Down here.” Sarah gestured as she walked to the end of the hall, pausing just long enough for Brianna to walk in ahead of her, the pinup smile still firmly planted in its place

Brianna entered the room and the only thing that stopped her from screaming was the blast of cold, dry air that hit her like a physical blow.

The room felt like a meat locker. At the center, stood a simple hospital bed and lying atop it was a corpse, in an advanced state of decay. Brianna started to weave from side to side, vaguely recalling that Sarah had never once touched any of the pastries, or drank any of the tea. The sense of alarm came far too late, as she tried to back away. She felt Sarah’s hand pressing firmly into the center of her back, shoving her forward.

“Can’t you at least say hello?” she asked, the hurt plain in her voice. “He was nice enough to ask to meet you, I think it’s the least you can do.”

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