It was dusk. The sun was retreating into the horizon and it cast a strange glow through the window. There were three of them above the bed that he lay on. Three frosted, obscure glass that allowed the dimming light in.
The bed was large and very plain. Across the bed lay a plain pillow roll.
Her vantage point arises from a dark stairwell to see him laying in slumber, on the right side of the bed.
He is laying on his right side, knees slightly curled, with his head resting on the pillow roll.
I notice how sad she feels.
I notice how troubled he looks, even while deep in slumber.
Everything in the room is plain and without character. There is no abiding presence of love in the room. It is cold and unfeeling with the exception of her. She emanates sorrow and regret and unconditional love.
The fading light through the frosted windows evoke an atmosphere of haste. She is in a hurry.... To do what?