He's staring again.
She stares back-but it passes right through head is turned to face the bleached wall to his left, and he doesn't feel her stare. He doesn't even acknowledge it with a slight shift in posture; a show of nerves; There's no unease-nothing.
She coughs. Prim. Clear. Sharp.
He doesn't stop staring.
"Ahem," she tries again-this time there's a slight twitch in his right eye.
She groans silently and turns to leave when he-unexpectedly-replies. His eyes remaining determinedly glued to the wall.
"You're not real."
It's a chant; a mantra. Not Real, Not Real, Not Real, Not-"But I am!"
Now she looks indignant.
He closes his eyes wearily. "No," he states,"you're not."
His lips tremble minutely, and she's at his side in a flash-enveloping his hand in hers.
Gently:" I'm here, for real"
He can feel her warmth. Surely this isn't an illusion...is it even possible to imagine warmth?
He sneaks a glance, and he's lost in her eyes. Again. Bright blue, clear, vibrant, and so alive!
The tears start their slow trek down his cheek and he's pouring his heart out to her. She smiles.
Just like old times...
Somewhere on the other side of the one sided observation glass, two figures decked out in lab coats shook their heads sadly at the sight before them. Despite their best efforts Mr. Zamir's condition had yet to improve. The younger of the two-a sallow blonde- made a note on his clipboard and turned to leave the room, leaving his companion behind, to continue gazing at the man in the glass room as he interacted hysterically with the empty air before him.