" He helped me sit up on my bed and tried to force-feed me glucose dissolved in water and a biscuit he’d grabbed from my roommate’s bedside. But I spat it right out, still thinking about calories and numbers.
“That’s enough, Amira. I’m literally trying to feed you water. It’s not going to hurt you!” he screamed. "

― , Imperfect Mortals : A Collection of Short Stories