I made a cup of tea, and watched how you didn't drink it. Watched how your eyes searched the room. I held your hand. We talked, but I couldn't remember. Neither could you. You asked me what was for tea, and I replied. You asked again after the news.
You said my name, and I felt myself smile. I propped up your cushions, and listened as you spoke about Tommy's son, and old Ruth down the road.
I didn't need to say anything at all.