He came back home, dropped his keys on the side table, regretted the noise, and then walked softly into the bedroom. She was lying motionless, her eyes half open.
“Hello baby,” she said faintly, “How was your day?”
“Not so good,” he said, “The post office is killing me. I don’t know if I can take it.” As he said it, he wondered how much of it was just pretend, for her benefit.
“I know, honey. The doctor upped my lithium, so I’m not really myself today. I’m not hungry, you can eat if you want.”
He went into the kitchen to make himself something. Canned soup? No. Mac and cheese? No. How about some toast? He went back in the bedroom, she was lying with her back to him.
“How about we both go off the meds,” he said.
She turned around and gave him one of those looks.