Angelina held George close and squeezed him. She understood what he was feeling. She could feel how much more often she had to tell herself to just breathe. The room felt too small, like air wasn't as readily available. All the sorrow seemed to suck it out.
When she mentioned Fred, Angelina's knees wobbled, and finally the bloody tears filled her eyes. She rubbed George's back and tried to swallow.
"You're not broken," she whispered. "You're still healing--there's no bloody time limit on that." She pulled away from him. "Want to get out of here?"