[Still holding his hand, why stop? It is his life line, right now it's the reason to keep moving. Keep trying and living in the moment not moments passed. The pain on his face makes the old man have a bout of his own in sympathy.]
I gotcha.
[Against his side and pulling an arm over his shoulder.
Their departure from the small room to the hallway brings them in the path of a beautiful, tired looking black woman. She must be in her late thirties or early forties. If she's older it is impossible to tell. Her mouth is set in a judgmental pout. It would appear that the look is for Mr. White and Mr. White alone.]
no subject
[Still holding his hand, why stop? It is his life line, right now it's the reason to keep moving. Keep trying and living in the moment not moments passed. The pain on his face makes the old man have a bout of his own in sympathy.]
I gotcha.
[Against his side and pulling an arm over his shoulder.
Their departure from the small room to the hallway brings them in the path of a beautiful, tired looking black woman. She must be in her late thirties or early forties. If she's older it is impossible to tell. Her mouth is set in a judgmental pout. It would appear that the look is for Mr. White and Mr. White alone.]