[P.C. pokes my stomach as we are each lounging on the futon.]
Me: Oh, I think I feel kind of sick. Not quite like I might throw up, but almost. It's weird.
P.C.: Uh oh. Don't get sick!
Me: Well, I wouldn't throw up on your face.
P.C.: I don't want you to throw up at all!
Me: You're so picky.
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