[He sits at the small table which stands at one corner of the room, the table upon which they have so often shared in food and drink, and when she enters his gaze greets her, alerted as he was by the quiet creak of the door. He does not stand to welcome her, for although she has lately made herself scarce she is not a guest of his quarters, but his lover, his wife who belongs close by his side. Thus he remains in his seat with his eyes heavy upon her, beckoning for her to come closer not through words but through the force of his body language. His words, however, fall softly and through them his hurt is plain, as is the bend of a blade of grass through transparent beads of dew.]

Know you not that what cares weigh upon your heart you may share with me, that the burden might be halved? As you have granted me such reprieve, so too do I wish to grant you, dear Olivia.

[It has always been he who pours out his grievances and she who opens her heart to accept this weight, yet now he wishes to be the one who listens, as he has listened to so few before.]