I shook his hand out of politeness rather than understanding, still convinced that the explanation would resolve itself in a moment.
Over the next hour, he stayed. He did not talk much, and he did not interrupt the nurses as they set up the machine and inserted the needles. He simply sat, occasionally turning a page, occasionally glancing up to ask if I needed water or an extra blanket.
When the session ended, he walked with me to the exit and waited until the van arrived before nodding once and heading toward the parking lot.
The following week, he was there again.
Then again.
After a month, it was impossible to believe it was accidental.
“Why do you keep coming?” I asked him one morning when curiosity finally outweighed caution.
“To keep you company,” he replied without hesitation.
“I manage fine on my own,” I said, though the words felt more defensive than true.
“I know,” he answered gently. “That does not mean you should have to.”