There must have been some sound that made me look up, but I wasn't aware of having raised my head. John Grey was standing in the doorway of my room. His neckcloth was missing and his shirt hung limp on his shoulders, wine spilled down the front of it. His hair was loose and tangled, and his eyes as red as mine. I stood up, slow, as though I were underwater. "I will not mourn him alone tonight," he said roughly, and closed the door.
In this scene, the narrator is startled by an unexpected presence, noticing John Grey at the doorway. His disheveled appearance—missing neckcloth, untidy shirt, and wine stains—reflects a sense of vulnerability and distress. The atmosphere is heavy, indicating that both characters are grappling with profound emotions, although the specifics of their sorrow are not explicitly stated. The narrator's slow movement suggests a feeling of suspension, as if time is momentarily halted by their shared grief.
John Grey's declaration that he will not mourn alone reinforces the theme of companionship in times of sorrow. His rough manner of speaking hints at a deeper emotional turmoil, while also establishing a bond between him and the narrator in their mutual loss. The closing of the door symbolizes a private moment shared between them, marking the beginning of a night filled with introspection and connection amidst their shared heartache.
