Damien looked tired the next morning. Not the usual kind of tired from staying up late watching me. This was different. His face was pale, eyes a little glassy when he brought breakfast to the table. He sat down across from me and rubbed his temple like his head hurt.
“You okay?” I asked before I could stop myself. It was the first real question I had asked him in days.
He gave a small smile. “Just didn’t sleep much. I’ll be fine.”
I watched him push his food around the plate. He barely ate anything. Usually he tried to make conversation, even when I gave short answers. Today he was quiet. Too quiet.
By afternoon, he looked worse. I was sitting on the couch reading an old book when he came out of his office. His steps were slower. He sat down beside me and closed his eyes.
“Damien?” I
