Iris has lost the ability to smile, but Twiggy doesn't mind; Iris is still Iris. To Twiggy she is. They still belong to each other. Best mates.
They spend time together every other day: they shuffle the corridors; they listen to stories. Twiggy sits at her slippers, while Iris slurps her cup of tea, waiting for the crumbs of biscuit that flutter down from the trembling lips.
It is hard to know who will toddle off first: Twiggy or her Iris.