At eight-thirty in the evening, Edward Stephens rushed over from the company.
He came in a hurry, still carrying the chill of the night dew. Having dealt with the day's accumulated work, he didn't even have time to eat dinner before coming over.
Daisy Ginger had just been helped by the nurse to go to the bathroom, and when she opened the door, she saw the man in a black trench coat coming in from the hallway.
"Let me help," he said as he took off his trench coat, handed it to his assistant behind him, and then stepped forward to gently lift Daisy into his arms, carefully placing her back on the bed.
She had lost weight drastically, so much that she looked different. The layer of flesh she once had was gone; she appeared somewhat sickly and exuded a frail, skeletal thinness.
Resting against the bed, Daisy looked up at the tall man standing by her side. Their eyes met, and both were momentarily enveloped by silence between breaths.
