Good day sunshine.

I awoke yesterday morning to a war within my body. White blood cells rushed to my lungs and my throat as the enemy virus began its second wave upon my immune system. I felt heat from the conflict and I laid still in hopes that the sedentary state of my being would aid my white blood cells in the battle. My room was dark and I listened for the familiar sound of rain.

Nothing.

I turned towards my window and saw light seeping through the blinds, yearning to be released into my cold, gloomy room. A surge of anger raced through my veins: here I was, laying sick in bed, and it was finally a beautiful day.

My dad advised me to go out in the sun. "It will do you some good," he promised.
I dragged myself out of bed and walked straight outside.

Sick and getting some sunshine.

I felt weird. No, not because I was wearing a Grover T-shirt and pajama bottoms out in the middle of my front yard; that was normal. It was because I sensed something within me change. The sun illuminated my soul as its rays cleansed my body.
I felt weird. I was...happy? The corners of my mouth began to twitch into a smile.

Happiness. (Discovered through some sunlight and a shower.)

I was happy.

End of my strange short story.
Moral of the story: the sun has magical healing powers.
Also, me sick = weird posts.