“Maaa,” I whimper. My hands fly to my throat. “My voice. My voice is gone!”
Two days before production, I wake up with a ball in my throat.
Not literally, but it feels like it. It hurts to swallow. It hurts to speak. It almost hurts to breathe.
“Maaa,” I whimper. My hands fly to my throat. “My voice. My voice is gone!”
“Oh, no, poor you.” My mother looks sympathetic. “Sounds like a really bad sore throat. I’ll make you a hot drink.”
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