"Listen, Mark," she said so lightly that it was nearly a whisper, "we can get through this." She leaned over and lightly kissed his forehead. Her lips were so soft and delicate, just as they'd been before all this mess had happened.
He wanted to tell her how much he appreciated her kindness, but all he managed to do was choke on his unspoken words.
She shook her head. "Baby, you really don't look too good. You need to eat something. No excuses."
He nodded and gently wiped away some of the dried tears left on his face.
"Come on," she said, tugging on his sleeve. "We can walk back to the loft and I can attempt at cooking you something. Hopefully I won't burn the kitchen down."
Mark almost smiled, but stopped himself. He didn't want to be smiling after what happened. It might make him seem like he didn't care. And he cared. Too much.