Here is a conversation between a Mom in the hospital recovering from a stroke and her daughter, visiting her:

Look at that face.

What face, Mom? It’s just you and me here.

That face. Look at him. He will just stand there and look at me. I’m in pain. I am lost. He is indifferent, like always.

Mom, Dad isn’t here. That’s just his coat hung on a hanger on a wall hook.

I was wondering why he seemed more personable all of a sudden.