“I think it would do you good to take a shower,” suggests Manon.
I’m sitting on the tiles in the bathroom, and the thought of getting up just seems overwhelming.
“I’ll help you undress.”
Somewhere in the back of my head, a small voice told me that this isn’t something I would let pass if I was in my normal state. But now, I’m too exhausted to have the courage to think about it.
I’m just aware that Manon is grabbing the hem of my T-shirt and asking me to put my arms up. A manoeuvre requiring significant effort.
“If there was least a plastic stool, you could have sat on it to take a shower. We’ll have to make do with what we have.”
I have the impression that he’s speaking more to himself than to me. What I don’t understand is that he takes off hisT-shirt too, seems to hesitate and take
