Luke instantly wanted to cry again. He laughed a little, and the sound was altered by gathering tears.
"George, what am I going to do?"
The whisper sounded smaller and more worried than he'd hoped. In spite of everything, Luke still felt a little ashamed by it, by his weakness. When she gave him a tug upward he followed, shoulders bowed like a child who had been punished, and let George lead him out with no resistance.
Maybe he should have left Uncle B's side hours ago. The air in the hallway was clearer, easier to breathe. Luke didn't feel better -- not even a little -- but he was able to push the sadness out of his face, replacing it with a simultaneously numb and searching expression, as if he'd lost something and wasn't sure about wanting it back.