THE VIRUS


Overwhelmed by stressful lectures and exhausting walks, I sought refuge in the school cafeteria. That's where I met her – a stunning middle-aged woman with captivating beauty.


Initially intimidated, I hesitated to approach her. But fate brought us together again that evening. Taking a deep breath, I walked up to her table. "May I join you?" I asked.

She looked up, stern-faced, "I do mind, but sit if you promise not to be a nuisance."

As we ate, my mind raced with assumptions: perhaps she was one of the university's tough, unapproachable women or had grown resentful due to past experiences.

Determined to connect, I complimented her beauty.

"Thank you," she replied, "but I can't reciprocate."

Undeterred, I shared my struggles with relationships.

"I don't have boy problems," she said soberly, revealing her HIV medication.

My instincts screamed "run," but I realized my initial intentions were superficial.

"I'd love to be friends, support you, and cherish you," I offered.


She looked deep into my eyes and declined, "Leave me be, don't search for me."



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