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April 13, 2013
Mirda sat on her straw mattress with her legs pulled up to her chest. The doctors were in the unit today and she no longer felt safe. It seemed she had a choice: she could either spend every waking moment examining herself for the bumps or live every day for what its worth. She didn't even know what she was doing staying in tonight. She had to leave, but where could she go? Did the laborer get infected from something in the building? More likely it was something he came across in the fields. She slept with the candles lit.