His head snaps up, and I start registering the things I missed from a distance. The way he grinds his jaw, the slight shaking of his left hand, and the sound of his breathing—which is a bit faster than normal. But most of all, I am taken aback by his eyes, which are unfocused like he is looking through me.
“Yes?” he asks, his voice sounding . . . detached somehow.
“Did something happen?”
He closes his eyes for a second and takes a deep breath. “Go back to bed. I’ll leave.”
There is something wrong. I just can’t pinpoint what. He seems angry and agitated, but trying to keep it subdued. Other than those little tells, he looks perfectly composed.
He’s right. I should go back to bed. What’s going on with him is not my problem. I shouldn’t care. So, why do I? I focus on his eyes again. Yes
