Paul woke up the next day before me but he was still lying in bed. I noticed he was clutching his stomach and I imagined it must have been sore from crying last night.

"How are you feeling?" I asked.

"Weak," he replied and laughed a little, but it sounded strained. "Can you help me downstairs? I tried but I couldn't get up." He hated asking for help, so I didn't make too big a deal of it.

"Of course!" I wrapped my arm around his waist and helped him up. He put his arm on my shoulders and stepped forward slowly, almost tripping on the edge of the hallway rug.

"Easy, easy,"If he fell forward I wasn't sure I could catch him. I led him to the stairs and laid my other hand on his chest to steady him. We descended slowly and cautiously and I led him to a recliner and eased him into it. I made him a breakfast of soup and brought it to him. He tried to sit up to eat it but he really wasn't lying when he said he couldn't.

He groaned, but I think he wanted to scream.

"Hey, hey, take it easy," I told him.

"Alright," He sipped at the soup before setting it down on a table beside him. "Nancy, my dream..."

"Don't feel pressured, Paul, tell me when you want to," I told him.

"It-it's alright, dear," he told me, but I could see the tears forming in his eyes. "I uh... I... w-watched her... sh-she..." He stopped and squeezed his eyes shut. "I watched her... die... and... and I couldn't help her."

"I'm so sorry," I squeezed his hand. He squeezed back. What was I supposed to say to that?

I stayed by his side for a few minutes then stepped into the kitchen and dialled Ringo because I figured he might be able to do something. I didn't know what, but he'd known Paul a lot longer than I had.

"Hello?"

"Hey Nancy, what's up?"

"It's Paul, I'm worried about him,"

"Is he alright??"

"He's...he's depressed and I don't know how to help him."

"He's depressed?" he echoed.

I lowered my voice. "It's about Linda, you know, he hasn't been the same since...well...."

"I know, but... how bad is it? Has he gotten worse?"

"Yeah... he even had a nightmare last night about her passing. Do you think you can help him?" I asked desperately.

"I don't know, but I'll be right over." he hung up.

I went back to the living room where Paul was lying and told him Ringo was coming.

"Should I change?" he asked. He was still in his pyjamas.

"No, you're fine. He's probably in his pyjamas, too." I quickly stepped out of the room and texted Ringo to change into comfy clothes. He replied with a thumbs-up.

"Brace yourself" I sent and put my phone down.