She fell asleep in the bath again; waking as he pulled her from the cold water, wrapped her in a towel, cupped her face in his hands. He looked in her eyes (left, then right, then left again) — he shone the light against the navy of her irises, to see if they would tighten up (the right did, the left didn’t) and his expression was always concern, was always worry, always sadness and she could not make herself look at him anymore.
She knew what he saw, what it meant, but she could do nothing to save him from that.
