Member-only story
Letting go is nice in theory… until it’s about people I love.
Born to Control (or So I Thought)
Tina, an old friend of mine, and I hooked up yesterday. We used to work together in a small regional organization back in the mid-2000s. Not for long—only a year. But in just one year? Absolute chaos. Drama was everywhere.
One of the episodes was an outbreak that hit our office.
Almost everyone, including project staff, finance, admin, and even the drivers and office boys, fell ill within three days. More than half of the staff ended up in the hospital for either typhoid or dengue fever, or both. Out of about 25 people, only two were still standing: me and Tina.
It turns out that we both tested positive for dengue fever and typhoid. But, for whatever reason—pure luck, an immune system, or divine intervention—we were able to function.
Tina was heavily pregnant. And our boss? Conveniently out of the country. I started wondering if our old office building—a colonial-era relic from Dutch rule—was the source of all this misery. I told Tina, “We are NOT stepping foot in that office.”
Later, we figured out why—the office had terrible sanitation and a backyard full of standing water, basically a mosquito paradise. Perfect…
