Me: "Sup. How are you doing?"

Him: "I'm okay. I have a lot of work though. What about you?"

Me: "Yeah, I'm all right. I haven't been to class for a couple days cause I haven't been feeling so good."

Him (jumping back about nine meters): "Oh my God!...I'm sorry, but I just don't want to get sick."

Me: "That's all right. Good luck with your work and stuff. I'll talk to you later."

Exeunt stage right.

This is the hygienic response. The person, who I hope feels sympathy deep inside, definitely doesn't want to join the cycle of contagion.

So, now in addition to feeling physically ill, I was hurt. I felt the way Kevin from "Home Alone" must have felt when his sister said, "Kevin, you're such a disease."

This was no good. I was tired and it was late, so I headed home to my roommate.

Me: "Erin, what's up?"

Erin: "Dude, I haven't seen you in days. Where have you been? Did you fall off the face of the earth? Are you okay?"

Me:" "No, I'm standing right here, stupid. Dude, I don't feel so good."

Erin: "Can I get you anything? Do you need any drugs? Tea?"

Me: "Yeah, can you get me some crack when you go to your dealer? I think it goes really well with the amoxycillin my mom sent me. Actually, I think I'm okay. Thanks, Erin; you're the best."

Erin: "No problem. Let me know if you need anything, sweetie. But no, you can't have some of my Sprite, loser. I see you looking at it."

Me (falling into bed): "Sounds good."

Finally, a normal reaction--concerned and friendly, without smothering me, and uniquely Erin. It made me feel better.

Now Erin has strep throat. And I know how to act around her.