"A-CHOO!"

Noah O' Squeak had come down with a cold. He sat in his bed, sneezing his poor mousey head off. Tearing a corner of the giant piece of tissue paper beside him, he blew his nose as loud as a trumpet blast, the tossed the used rag in the wastebasket by his bedside.

"Oh, you poor mouseling." Mrs. Mousekewitz commented as she walked in carrying what looked like a bowl of soup.

"Don't worry, Mrs. Mousekewitz. We Celtic mice don't stay sick fer long. I'll be back on me feet in a day." Noah replied.

"Yes, you will. With plenty of soup." She gave him the bowl. "Made from scratch." She smiled and caressed his cheek. "And with the love of a mother-in-law."

Noah smiles and sipped the soup. It warmed him down to the bones and slightly alleviated his sinuses. "Oh, that's good. Thank ya, Mrs. M."

"Of course, Noah. Now, eat, then get some rest."

—-

Later, after Noah had blown his nose hundreds of times, drunken 4 bowls of soup, and sang Lord knows how many rebel songs to make sure his cold didn't obstruct his vocal talents, his girlfriend, Tanya Mousekewitz poked her head in. "Hey, Noah. Feeling any better?"

"A little. Yer mum's soup really helped." Noah replied. Feeling a sneeze coming on, he grabbed a tissue, sneezed loudly, then blew his nose like a trumpet.

"Oh, you poor baby." Tanya walked over and felt his forehead. "No fever, thank Heaven. Oh, I hate that you're sick."

Noah smiled. "Tanya, relax. I'll be better by tomorrow. Celtic mice don't stay sick fer long." He paused. "So... how was work?"

"A little bit boring. The patrons missed you."

"So... no trouble?" Noah asked.

"No, none. Your dad and I had things taken care of." Tanya smiled. "But, as I said, we missed you."

"Aye, well, I missed workin'," Noah replied.

"Well, get some rest, ok?" Tanya asked.

"I shall," Noah affirmed.

Tanya smiled and stroked Noah's cheek. "I love you."

"Love ya back, Tanya," Noah said.