It can, and does, get worse.

“Sir? Sir? Are you alright? Shall I call an ambulance?”

Mather’s eyelids flutter, attempting to rid his eyes of the fur that blocks all but shapes and sunlight. His forehead crinkles. He fights to focus, staring with dumb confusion at the face looking down until it leans a bit more and Mather remembers Mouse’s sudden demise. Of Mouse, there’s no sign.

“Uh, no. I’m fine thank you.”

Mather tries to sit up from where he is lying on the landing. The woman grabs his arm, giving Mather another opportunity to search for Mouse. If Mouse is still in there, he is surely dead by now, suffocated in the expansive depths. Mather pauses to think. Remembering that it is easier to think while standing, he grabs the rail and rights himself. The woman looks on, worried.

“I’m fine, really.” Mather looks away. “Have you…? I seem to have lost…” The woman grabs his arm.

“Here. Let’s find you a drink of water.” She leads Mather up the stairs and into the museum.

Mather never felt so… helpless.