“Amy.”
She did not answer. The room was dark except for light beneath the curtains. I sat up.
“Can I touch you?”
She turned toward me. I moved the pillow barrier aside and came closer. Her hands shook.
“Look at me.”
She tried. Her eyes were unfocused.
“Feet on the bed,” I said. “Press down.”
She did.
“Tell me five things you can see.”
“The lamp.”
“Good.”
“The window.”
“Good.”
“The chair.”
Her next inhale snagged.
“The bag.”
“One more.”
“You.”
Youhit.
“I’m here.”
I placed one hand lightly on her forearm.
“Four things you can feel.”
“The sheet.”
“Good.”
“Your hand.”
“Good.”
“My hair.”
“Two.”
“The headboard.”
“One more.”
