she is in her sixties and he is so tired he stares eyes bloodshot fingers trembling breathing in his throat he is so much older than his years his mouth sags his whole body sags he looks at her and smiles when she comes inside carrying a tall glass of cold very cold milk in her hands and it is a tired smile a smile worn out by overuse in distant youth thank you honey he says his voice stretched she stands beside him above him and puts his arm around her waist puts his head against her belly oh sweetie he says it is the voice of a man beat down she strokes his thinning hair do n't worry darling do n't worry it 'll come i 'm sure it will come she says but he does not seem to care he just holds her and when he drinks the milk it is cold as anything on his tongue .