This will be part of something larger that I have in mind:

Pushing the mattress inside the hide-a-bed, George rubbed at his aching back. His mouth watered in anticipation at the smell of bacon. He pulled his worn bathrobe tight against his sunken chest, not wanting Annie to see. George picked through a battered case, pushed under the sofa the night before, looking for clean socks and underwear. Sniffing the underarms of the faded shirt he’d worn the day before, he decided it could pass one more day’s wear. No sense giving Annie yet more work.

George maneuvered his way between the bookshelf, overflowing with papers, and the counter. Sliding behind Annie, he tried to squeeze his way to the bathroom. Pushing a wisp of lank hair off her damp forehead, she smiled wanly at him. She looked even more pale and drawn this morning than usual.

“It won’t be much longer,” he said, resting his hand on her back.