“Remember when you were sick that weekend?” Sasha said at the table. “And I had to make you chicken bouillon in your microwave?” while watching tiny sparrows fight at the plastic feeder hanging on the porch.
“Well, no actually,” said Myron.
“Oh come on,” she said, “You mumbled in your sleep that night, ‘Gotta catch the viruses,’” she giggled in the early morning sunshine streaming into the kitchen.
“Oh, right. Well, I remember the time you hallucinated in your sleep, he said.”
“Okay, dreaming. You said, ‘Get the frogs after them’.”
“Okay, touché,” she said smiling at him.