Gavin was slumped over his antique desk, his form shadowy against the room’s immense windows, his back shaking. He was coughing, but he also seemed to be crying. The room was filled with a burning smell. “Grandfather?” Gavin lifted his face off his arms in a sudden jerking motion. John took a step back involuntarily when he saw his grandfather’s face. The old man’s eyes were uneven, the pupil of the right eye twice as big as that of the left, and the whites of both were completely bloodshot. “Shut the door!” Gavin choked out between coughs. “I don’t want them to see me like this!” John glanced both ways down the hallway first—he agreed that no one should be nearby to see his grandfather in such a state. The old man was coughing again, but between fits, now that the door was shut, John became aware of a hissing sound somewhere in the room. “Where’s Maggie?” John asked, moving quickly to the bar against one wall and pouring a glass of water, which he brought to Gavin.
