"She's been there all afternoon." The nurse shook her head. "Usually she never misses arts and crafts, but—"
"Emily?" The doctor took a step closer, spoke in low, reassuring tones. "Is everything all right?"
"What are you looking at?"
"Do you mind if I look at the sky with you?"
She didn't say anything, just moved over so there was room beside her at the windowsill. He knelt down, turned around, leaned back to put his head against the moulding. The clouds slid by above them: excruciatingly, majestically slow. "Pretty."
"Better than arts and crafts," Emily whispered, conspiratorially.