The townhouse was quiet except for the occasional groan of pipes and the ticking clock in the parlor. You had gone to bed hours ago, but Howard hadn’t been able to settle. He’d slipped deeper and deeper into his little space, until finally the words he normally managed were gone, leaving him frustrated and tearful.

Now he sat on the floor in the bedroom, blanket around his shoulders, face red and blotchy. His fists rubbed at his eyes, little hiccups shaking his chest as he tried—unsuccessfully—to explain what was wrong.

“Ma—mm…” he mumbled, lips wobbling, voice breaking off into a helpless whine. He tugged at your nightdress, eyes big and wet, as though begging you to understand.