His wife, Sarah, came in with a cup of tea. He saw her lips move, forming familiar shapes—"Good morning," "How are you feeling?"—but the sound arrived as if from the end of a long, tiled hallway. Words were mashed together, consonants lost, vowels warped. The gentle clink of the mug on the bedside table sounded like a dropped hammer.
She turned in his arms, her face full of sympathy. She brought her hands up, framing his face, her thumbs tracing the circles under his eyes. Then, she leaned in, her lips almost touching his ear, and spoke. Slowly. Deliberately. Each word a carefully launched life raft across the muffled sea. ears stuffy from cold
The rest of the world was a distant radio station playing on the wrong frequency. His wife, Sarah, came in with a cup of tea
"I can't hear you, Leo," Alex said, the admission a physical blow. He pointed to his ear. "Daddy's ears are broken." The gentle clink of the mug on the