random ficlet.
She finds him staring out the window. His eyelids sag over distant eyes, cloudy as the sky, adding weariness to a dazed expression that’s one half resentment and one half grief. She extends her hand to one of his shoulders. He turns, having caught a glimpse of the hand from the corner of his eye. He smiles warmly at her. She’s amazed that the warmth reaches his eyes, as if he had always been this jolly, as if the lost man at the window had only been in her imagination. But she notes the weariness that lingers round the edges of his eyes, and, as she turns away, catches the beginning of resentment and grief's slow advance on his artificially happy face.