“I don’t know what you’ll want.”
“Good.” She touched one bootie. “Neither do I.”
“What do you need from me?” he asked.
“Time.”
“Okay.”
Much later, Andrew began clearing the table.
He reached toward the booties.
His hand stopped.
“Where do you want these?”
Amanda pointed toward the windowsill.
“There.”
Andrew placed them exactly where she’d asked.
One tipped sideways.
He started to straighten it.
Then stopped.
Amanda watched him.
Andrew sat back down.
