Jim didn't want to go into work. They'd stayed up and watched old movies and talked more than they had in months, maybe years. It felt like the times before Leigh had got sick the first time, when he didn't have to worry about her getting anxious or depressed.

Now he lay in bed beside the warmth of her body and delayed the inevitable.

"You're going to be late," Leigh said.

"Not me." Jim rolled out of bed and grabbed his clothes. Staff would probably have him cruising ...