Thinking about becoming accustomed to the symptoms of one's cold, like it's some familiar friend you learn the ins and outs of.
Imagine, if you will, A and B. B's been dealing with a cold over the past few days, and, while excitedly rambling off some story to A, pauses. Their breath snags, and they pitch into their forearm with a singular sneeze. This is all well and normal; B is generally a 'one-and-done' sort of sneezer.
A, knowing this, smiles at them, amused and slightly sympathetic. "Oh, bles-" They don't get far before B holds up a finger, cutting them off.
"Not yet," they say. They haven't lowered their arm fully from their face yet; it just hovers in the air, anticipating. "There's always more with this cold."
So A and B both sit in suspense for a while longer. A watches B intently, waiting on the edge of their seat for this alleged additional sneeze, but B's nose doesn't so much as twitch. Their breath stays perfectly even, their face completely neutral. A can only wait so long. "B, I don't think your second sneeze is coming," they say finally, biting back a chuckle.
B looks…almost disappointed. "But- no- I promise, there's always been another one-"
"Well, I guess your cold isn't so reliable after all. Now, you were in the middle of a story?"
B shakes their head, apparently still bitter about their missing sneeze. "Right. Where was ihh…hh-!" Their breath catches, and they hitch a few quick times before it happens: they sneeze harshly, desperately into the sleeve of their jacket. They stay in that position for a moment, sniffling dripply and blinking tears from bleary eyes. But when they finally come up, there's a shit-eating grin on their face. "I told you. Always more with this cold," they say, the smugness in their voice dampened by congestion.