Oscar looked tired. The last time I’d seen him he had been a stout bright eyed chap. Things had changed since then. He was still a large man but clearly defined muscle had replaced much of the fat.

My friend yawned and then squinted at me sleepily. “What were we talking about?” He had nodded off during our conversation three times. I didn’t notice it at the time but every time he started to snore his hands began clenching into fists like he was preparing for a fight.

“I asked if you were working out. You look like you’ve lost weight.” I said.

“Working out? God no. I’ve been too tired to work out. I sleep, go to work and sleep some more. No matter what I do, I just can’t get rested. You know if something’s going around?”

“Stomach flu.” I replied.

“Nah my stomach’s fine. Actually, I’ve been hungier than usual when I wake up.”

Oscar’s eyes slid shut.

I paid our check and left him there asleep in the booth. It wasn’t until the six o’clock news coverage that I realized that something was dreadfully wrong.