My boyfriend sits with a pale face.

"Just a bit longer."

He's nauseous. Heatstroke, I'm thinking.

I try to help with shade, water and food. He gets sick over the balcony. I rub his back. He insists we bike back.

The view of the karst mountains is spectacular, but he can't see that in his hurried state or from his hands and knees on the side of the road.

"We'll cab at the bus station," I say.

He replies he's fine, yet he's sick soon after. I flag down that cab.

Turns out it's food poisoning.

Yesterday's pink chicken.