The pat-pat of his hand on her back is soothing; it quiets the tears. Once she's composed enough she steps back and looks up at him and she knows she is a mess, a mass of red eyes and tears and runny nose. It's hard to be dignified under those circumstances; she wipes her face with the only thing at hand: the fabric of her nightgown.

"If I am stuck here... what do I do?"

Is he also unable to leave?

"How do I... live?"