Ears Stuffy From Cold Better (2027)

"He. Loves. You. And. So. Do. I. It. Will. Pass."

Desperate, Alex retreated to the bathroom. He stood under the shower, letting the scalding water beat down on his head. The roar of the water was a dull, percussive thud, but it did nothing to clear the clogged feeling. He tried the old trick: pinching his nose and gently blowing. A tiny, pathetic squeak. Nothing.

The rest of the world was a distant radio station playing on the wrong frequency. ears stuffy from cold

Leo's lower lip trembled. He didn't understand sickness or Eustachian tubes. He only understood that his dad, his audience, his playmate, was unreachable. He clutched the rocket ship to his chest and ran from the room.

Leo repeated himself, his little face crumpling with confusion. Alex leaned closer, tilting his good ear—was there a good one?—toward his son. He still couldn't make it out. The gap between them, usually filled with laughter and silly noises, was now a chasm of static. A curtain that

He didn't hear every syllable perfectly, but he heard the melody of her voice, the shape of her love. It was enough. He hugged her tighter, the stuffiness in his ears suddenly feeling less like a wall and more like a temporary, annoying curtain. A curtain that, with the next dose of decongestant and a good night's sleep, would eventually be drawn back.

"What?" he asked, for the third time.

Getting out of bed was a journey into a muted world. The creak of the floorboards was a dull thud. The gurgle of the coffee maker was a distant, subterranean rumble. He tried to watch the morning news, but the anchor's voice was a garbled monotone, lost beneath the roaring silence in his own head. He saw a report about a storm and a car chase, but it felt like a silent film. The ticker at the bottom of the screen became his only news source.