“Feel better?” he asked.

“Yes, thanks.”

She watched in trance-like detachment as he worked at the kitchen shelf. He measured coffee into a percolator, added water and set it on the stove. He broke two eggs into a bowl and whipped them, added milk and seasoning, and got out an iron skillet and put some oil in it. He opened the cooler where he had found the milk and brought out a bottle of grapefruit juice. He filled two glasses and put one on the table for her. She shook her head.

“Better drink it,” he said. “May stave off the cold you deserve to get.”

(cf. Dewey, Thomas B. Can Mermaids Kill.)