[ Mature ]
He'd never seen such a pale and sickly shade of cobalt. Cobalts ought to be vibrant and powerful, like the sky, or the tail of a comet. This cobalt was more like forget-me-nots and had no business being on pants.
She was pottering around the room, like she owned the place, opening and shutting drawers. They were sloppy pants too, draping themselves over her legs, wide and loose, like they aspired to be a skirt, but couldn't quite manage the effort.
"What kind of woman would wear such a thing?" He snapped at her when she tried to hand him a fork, jostling the flimsy tray table with his knees. "I don't need a nursemaid, woman", he said and tossed the fork back on the table. It missed and fell to the floor with a quiet thud.
"Now, dear, don't be silly", she said, her voice husky. "You have to keep your strength up".
She picked up the fork and tried to hand it to him again. He refused to take it. A crease appeared between her eyes.
"Bob, you love salmon. Just have a few mouthfuls".
She flaked the flesh with the fork and speared a good chunk of it. He followed the fish with his eyes. That salmon did look good. Crusty and golden on one side, and plumpy pink on the other. He opened his mouth and let her pop it inside, then savoured the oily taste. Might as well let the old biddy get her job done. She probably had a dozen more inmates to serve after him.
She fed him, pushed the tray table against the wall and went away. He closed his eyes.
"Come on, dear", she said in a flat voice. "It's time for your medicine".
Somehow she had snuck up on him again. She had a bottle with her, a squat little thing. The liquid, poured into a plastic spoon, was viscous pink. He sniffed suspiciously. It smelled like an old folks home. Not the sort of medicine you want to casually swallow down.
"You're trying to poison me, woman", he cried and pressed his lips together so the spoon bumped against them.
She spilled sticky stydd down his stubble. For a moment her blue eyes blazed. They were nowhere near as faded as her pants. I knew a girl with eyes like yours once, the man thought. The spoon dug part way between his lips, and propelled by her white knuckles. Then, the man flung up an arm and grinned as pink splashed all over her pants
"Bob, how could you!" she said and her voice cracked. "I'm already having such an awful day".
Poor woman, the man thought. After all, she must have a difficult home life. Why else would she be working in a place like this? He reached out to pat one of her hands. Her flesh was loose and soft. He could feel her wedding ring nestles solidly there, as though it grew from a bone.
"Please, Bob", she said. "Please, take your medicine".
He expected her to pull her hand away, but instead she smiled at him, a wry twist of lips that reminded him so much of his long lost lover, blue eyes and all. But, his lover would have never worn such hideous pants.
"Take those ugly things off!" He roared, pointing a long, lumpy finger and straightening his back againsts its natural pose.
She looked down at her pink splattered clothes, her mouth still twisted but no longer smiling. She glanced at the closed door. The man realised the only witnesses here were photos of grinning strangers that dotted the walls. He swallowed as she stalked to the middle of the room, and spun to face him.
What would she do?