"Do you want to sit here?" His hand flipped from one jacket pocket to offer her the seat.
     She looked at the rusted metal chair and grimaced. What makes him think I would want to sit in that? "No. Thanks." She stood behind the chair, gripped the top edge, and directed her gaze at the collar of his flannel shirt. "They're going to wonder why we're still out here. You know they don't like to wait on supper." She looked down at the chair and flicked a piece of loose paint. It landed on the gravel at his feet. "What do you want to say? Just say it."
     She watched him take a deep breath and kick the gravel mixed with sticks. His words now would change the course of the visit. 
     Of the day. 
     Of her life.


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