Riley fell asleep at the kitchen table sometime after the sky went the color of weak tea.
Colin did not notice the exact moment. He had been watching the window, because watching the window was easier than watching her, and when he looked back, her head had tipped onto her folded arms, and her breathing had slowed into something long and unguarded.
He did not move.
For a while he only sat there, with his knee still an inch from hers, and let himself understand how close she had come to the edge of her own strength. She had held herself upright for nearly two days. She had held herself upright for years, and he had stood in doorways and called it protecting her.
Ask before touching, his father had said. Let her be free to say no.
She could not say no to a blanket. He decided that was a question he could answer for himself.
