"Yes, once she's ready, she can be discharged,"
Adam Jones responded indifferently and headed upstairs. For some reason, the Old Lady felt an urgency in her grandson's retreating silhouette.
In the room, Adam stood in front of the wardrobe, staring at the monochromatic collection of black, white, and gray clothes, slightly furrowing his brows.
If this had been before, he would never have imagined that one day he'd be fretting like a woman in front of his wardrobe, his mind full of thoughts on how to dress more handsomely to catch his indifferent wife's attention.
After a while, he checked his watch, and seeing that it was almost time, he resignedly picked out a suit that was somewhat agreeable and changed into it before descending the stairs.
"Where are you off to?"
The Old Lady, who was flipping through a newspaper in the living room, asked curiously as she saw her grandson coming down.
