Her eyes stayed on him. They moved over his features without hurry.
Then she looked down at the sunflowers.
Her grip on the stems eased. Her shoulders settled into the mattress. The smile on her mouth shifted. It grew quieter. It stayed.
She did not say anything.
They sat in the stillness of the room. The corridor noise reached them in soft bursts. Footsteps passed.
A trolley rolled somewhere far off. The light from the window spread flat across the wall.
She started speaking.
She told him about waking up. Her eyes had opened to a white ceiling she did not recognize. A nurse stood near the table on the far wall, moving things around. Metal clinked once. The IV line had already been in her hand.
She lifted her left hand a little, enough for him to see the tape.
"The doctor came after that," she said. "Low blood sugar. Dehydration."
Her fingers curled slightly, then loosened again on the stems.
"I tried to remember the night before."
She shook her head once.
"Nothing."
