He brought his hand to her face, brushing a loose strand hair away from her eyes. She tried to shrink away from him but her body felt incredibly heavy. Instead, she closed her eyes and pushed slightly against his hand. His touch was comforting. "I went to your work to give you a ride home and they told me you were sick so I came here. I hope it's okay? I used the key you gave me last week. Oh, and Sally said you forgot your lunch in her car so I brought it. It's in the fridge. Can I make you anything? Or bring you anything?"
She shook her head slightly. "No," she rasped. "Yes. Water. Please." Her small bed shifted slightly as he stood and she heard him clinking around in her kitchen – still a stranger to how she arranged her kitchenware. Eventually she heard her faucet run and then he returned, kneeling by her bed. When she tried and failed to sit up, she felt his hand work its way under her head and then slowly and carefully lift her. She could feel her own sweat against his cool hand. He tipped the water glass against her lips and she nearly choked on the first sip. With small gulps, she finished the entire glass. "Thank you," she told him. Her throat hurt. Her head hurt. He whole body ached.