Esmond awoke to Charlotte’s worried face. The royal blue mascara she usually wore was smeared around her eyes. She seemed so upset, and he could help her. He tried to move to hold her, but he couldn’t sit up. He couldn’t do anything. Could he speak?

“I’m alright,” he assured her. Yes. He could speak. That was one thing. His head pounded when he did.

“Y-you should…” she paused and took a breath. “You should see yourself. You’re not alright.” Another blue tear fell.

“I feel fine,” he managed to say through the pulsing of his brain. He hated seeing her cry. “What happened to me?” He couldn’t remember. He knew nothing.

Charlotte heaved a watery sigh.