Dear Mister,
I hope you are having a good study session…at the expense of everyone else in this god-forsaken library. YOU, my good sir, are evidently infectious. You are also clearly in great pain each time you release a wailing bark out of the twisted cavities of your chest, and for that I am sorry. However, I would kindly like to request that you immediately depart from Butler Library, before you destroy the structural integrity of the centuries-old building.
There is a bass tone reverberating through the floor. Ripples have begun to break on the surface of my water cup. The stained glass windows are quivering in desperation. Sir, I would like to formally diagnose you with Tuberculosis. The whole room feels as if it is coughing: the whole damn building is crumbling. Please, for heaven’s sake, end this madness! Where did you get this cough? The Middle Ages? Where do you think you are? The Flu Farm? Seek medical attention at once! Don’t hesitate. And while you’re at it, please get that mole on the back of your neck checked out too. It doesn’t look right.
With only the greatest concern for your well-being,
The Pretty Girl Sitting Next To You
