On a normal night he'd have his face all but buried in the pair of gravy-slathered country-fried steaks. They didn't serve anything like this in Creighton and he'd been sort of bingeing since he got out. But tonight… He swallowed hard against a wave of nausea. He'd been feeling a tad queasy all afternoon. It had started a little while after his lunch of extra spicy Buffalo wings at Work. The day shift there had heard about the fight and how one of the bouncers was pissed at him, but they didn't seem to care much. Could that be it? The wings? Or just some virus? Who cared? All he knew was he was feeling crummy. It hadn't been too bad before, but the smell of the chicken-fried steaks seemed to crank up the nausea about ten notches. He signaled to Dawn who came right over. "Everything okay? You don't look so hot." "I don't feel so hot, darlin. In fact, I'm feeling right poorly." Dawn had started feeling better later this morning, but he'd been going downhill for a couple of hours now.
