I feel it hitting me now. The ache, the pain, the sheer destitute of the silent avenger. I can feel every part of my body groaning under the weight of the strain of a microbe too clever to be caught by my immunity. Oh how it deteriorates my persistence, my will to move on, my innate need to accomplish something before I go to bed. I want to sleep, but alas the ache permeates my every attempt to reach the night's tranquility.

But lo, what is was sound? It seemed to have emanated from a cavity made empty by the avenger's relentless hunger, a cavity that I once called a lung. There it goes again, but I find it hard to decipher. Was it a groan? No, that would make too little sense. Was it a voice? Almost, but not quite. For the third time it sounds, and this time I cannot mistake it for anything other that what it is.

Oink.