( Tired, hurt, wanting something. Things. They always want —

He lets go of the umbrella again, giving it a gentle push towards her in the end, for his final concession. It might not be what she needs, but he can give it. )

I'm — ...I'm being good. I've always been good. I don't... what matters? I don't know what you want me to say. I don't know why you're sick, I don't know why I'm not sick, I don't know how to make you better. He does, but he isn't here now. He just... left.

( It seems to distress the child intensely. ) He made my dollhouse, and he left me to play with it. I'm just... it's all a game. We're just playing.