She made her presence known with a scratch rather than a knock; he knew immediately it was her. “What?”

“Can I come in and talk to you?”

“What would be the point?”

There was a pause, and then she scratched at the door again. “Please?”

She wouldn’t go, she’d stay until he let her in. He stood, shuffled slowly to the door and drew it open with affected disinterest. “I don’t really want to get into it.”

“So let’s not get into it.”

“Fine with me.”

They sat on the couch as the television droned on. Eventually they held hands.

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