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Summary
Christ, his head was fuckin' stuffy. That was the first thought that entered Tommy’s mind as he rolled out of his bed that morning—not excitement to see Philza in just a few hours, to see Wilbur, but rather a complaint. His face felt like it was full of cotton. His throat burned, his head ached, his nose was running like a bitch...he was definitely sick.
Shit.
Shit, shit, shit.
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Or: Tommy's sick, Phil and Wilbur are scared, and sadder things are going on behind the scenes.
