"I remember closing up the clinic," Theodore said, watching her. He didn't mind her coming closer, or touching him, but his hands felt numb; his vague order for them to reach out and touch her was getting lost somewhere between his mind and his muscles. "And then I woke up this morning - is it still morning? - in Wales. At my father's house."
Saying it aloud was going to make it seem so real. He finally managed to lift his hand, touching her arm, slightly tighter than usual, but for support, not to hold her at bay. Hopefully she could tell the difference, because he wasn't sure of what kind of signals his expression or body language was sending right now - he just felt blank. "He's dead."