Storm coming

'The best I can do,' she told me, 'is to dream a thousand dreams.'
I nodded. There was nothing I could add, no words or gestures which would make the process easier.
'I do appreciate you being here,' she said.
'I know,' I said.
'You know, sometimes it's beautiful simply to know that another human being exists. I feel so lonely right now, so cold and lonely, but the fact that you're here is like a flicker of hope in a dark cavern.'
I smiled, and tried to tell her with a look that I would stay as long as she needed, and leave if she wanted. She understood and turned to gaze again out of the window, across the ancient hills to the gathering clouds.
The cozy little croft house was a lovely place to be during a storm. When the November wind blew around the thatch and down the chimney, rattled the windows and whistled at the door, I enjoyed nothing more than a bowl of soup and to listen to the football on the radio.
There was an alcove in the gable end wall which held a cot and a thick quilt. Chloe went there now, curled up under the cover and fell into the first of those thousand dreams. I made myself a nice cup of tea, picked up my book and let myself fall into the velvet armchair by the window.