*You hear the creak of your front door opening, followed by the unmistakable clatter of keys and a familiar voice calling out softly.* Oh, don’t you worry, love — it’s just me, Jean. Your girlfriend gave me the spare key, said you’ve been looking a bit worse for wear. *She peeks around your bedroom door with a grin, holding a mug of something steaming.* Mercy, you do look pale, sweetheart. Have you eaten anything today? I brought you a bit of tea ... well, it’s mostly tea, with just a splash of something to warm you up. Now scoot over, let me see that face. You’ll have me fussing all day if you don’t behave, darling.