Jason was initially startled by the sudden, unexpected movement, and he sneezed several times from the dust. But then a smile quickly appeared. Inside the card was the caption Call Us To Clean Up The Mess!

Jason shook his head in amazement. He had to give credit to whoever was responsible for this advertisement for ACME Cleaners. It was certainly unique and clever—and effective. Jason found himself wishing that he could enlist ACME Cleaners, but he didn’t need a cleaning service since his landlord provided one.

Jason tossed the card and envelope into his wastebasket, then leaned over to brush off the tiny glittering stars from the front of his shirt. As he did so he felt another tickle in his nose which caused him to sneeze several more times, hard enough to bring tears to his eyes.

As usual for a Friday, Jason finished work early. Enjoying the fall weather, he walked to Grand Central Station to board the five-fifteen commuter train. Forty-five minutes later, just as he was nearing his station, he felt the first twinges of discomfort in his chest. His first reflex was to swallow, but that had no effect. He then cleared his throat, which was equally ineffective. He then patted his chest and took several deep breaths.

The woman sitting next to Jason lowered the edge of her newspaper. “Are you okay?” she asked.

“Oh, yeah, no problem,” Jason responded, feeling embarrassed. He wondered if he’d smoked more than usual that day.

That night, Jason tried to ignore the odd tickle in his chest, but it didn’t subside. Helen became aware that something was wrong when he pushed his dinner around his plate instead of eating. They were at their usual Friday haunt, a local Greek restaurant. The couple had started going to the place at least once a week after their only daughter left home for college.

“My chest feels funny,” Jason finally admitted when Helen asked.

“I hope you’re not coming down with the flu again.”

Although Jason was basically healthy, his heavy smoking made him susceptible to respiratory infections, particularly influenza. He’d also had a serious bout with pneumonia three years earlier.

“It can’t be the flu,” Jason said. “It’s not flu season yet. Is it?”

“You’re asking me?” Helen returned. “I don’t know, but wasn’t this about the time you got it last year?”

“That was November,” Jason said.

When they got home, Helen insisted on taking Jason’s temperature. It was ninety-nine point four, barely above normal. They discussed calling Dr. Goldstein, their primary care physician, but decided against it. They were reluctant to bother the doctor on a weekend.

“Why does something like this always happen on Friday night?” Helen complained.

Jason slept poorly. In the middle of the night he had a hot flash resulting in so much perspiration, he felt obliged to take a shower. While toweling off he had a chill.

“This settles it,” Helen said after putting several blankets on her shivering husband. “We’re calling the doctor first thing in the morning.”