”“I think we need to talk,” she says almost in exasperation.‘Oh shit,’ I'm thinking. “Sure, I need to grab my shit and we can head in.”�...�Oh no you don't. We can talk out here.”“Okay. Can I take my stuff in?”“Shit, I guess it won’t hurt to go inside.”We sit across from one another at the kitchen island. She tells me she's been thinking about what happened and doesn't think it's that big a deal and she misses our conversation. She really wants to start spending time together again. The time spent. She had no intentions of prodding for his deep seeded secrets either, but for a moment she wanted to wrap her arms around him and squeeze him tightly. It was silly. He could take care of himself better than she could herself, but he inspired the need to comfort him. Shaking her head, she watched him mark over the kitchen. Coffee? Oh there was a God after all and he was merciful! ‘Weak is never an option. Strong all the way, but, not sure I want the whiskey this time around.’ The look he shot. More

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