"How ever did you manage to both choke and concus yourself?" asked Mrs. Wolfe from the front seat of the taxicab in which she had arranged to take Sue and Boris home from the doctor.
"Running to the bathroom, I tripped on some stuff," Sue meekly replied from within Boris' arms. In one of her hands she held a paper bag from the chemist which rattled with the sound of a pill bottle.
"You do realise now how much better for your health is a clean flat?" continued Mrs. Wolfe.
Sue just looked extra miserable at the question. Not only had she hurt herself, it seemed that she might be losing her new flat and her new independence. If her parents found out, they would insist she move back into their home. Her mouth formed a pout as she tried to stop the moisture welling in her eyes.
Glancing back Mrs. Wolfe could sense Sue was on the verge of tears. "Oh sweetie, under the conditions of the lease, you're not even supposed to be housing your friend here on a permanent basis. And from the look of your room, he's pretty permanent. I tell you what, if the two of you pitch in to pay a cleaner to go over that flat once a week for the next three weeks, you can stay, but we will need to discuss new conditions. Can you live with that?" asked Mrs. Wolfe.
Sue's face started getting wet, but she smiled with Mrs. Wolfe's suggestion and nodded.
"Sounds good to me too," said Boris.