“What are you going to do now,” she sipped her coffee, trying to ignore the pigeons around her feet, trying to pretend there wasn’t a little too much of a chill in the air, trying to seem like it was a casual question, “now that you can’t play?”
He shrugged; he wouldn’t meet her eyes. It was as if he didn’t just not know the answer, but that he believed there wasn’t an answer.
“Can they fix your—”
“No.”
She stared at the tiny aperture in the coffee cup’s lid. “It doesn’t seem fair.”
He laughed. “Why would it be?”
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