You didn’t cry. You didn’t cry. You didn’t cry. The early afternoon light shifted as the hours passed. There was a tap at the door. ‘Little Mi...s.’ Margaret’s voice. ‘Little Miss…’ from the door opened just a crack. ‘Yes, Margaret.’ Your own voice sounded harsh and grating to yourself. ‘Little Miss, there’s a package for you.’ ‘Thank you, Margaret, I’ll look at it later.’ ‘I — I’ll leave it here for you.’ ‘Very well. Thank you, Margaret.’ You could hear her placing something heavy-ish by the. He was not afraid to show the world how he felt about her. Small little public displays of affection were not a problem. Whether it be to open her door, or pull out her chair or just hold her hand as they strolled through the streets. And she would show him just as much attention. She would run her hand lovingly over his neck or shoulder while he drove, trace his fingers while their hands entwined. Constantly paying attention and geniuely interested in what he had to say. Even learning a few. More

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