The jumper flew across the room, landing with both arms facing the door. Anything is
a sign if you want it to be. She laughed, and put it on.
“Ok let’s go for a walk,” she said.
They crunched their way up the street.
He began singing, louder and louder. She giggled. It was 11am on a Monday
morning. There was no one about.
Her feet slipped from beneath her. As with everyone else, he caught her.
They had spent most of their early dates out dancing. Before he had spent the
decades since tap, tapping, typing away at the life his father had constructed. And
his father before him.
“Be careful,” she said. As they walked past another puddle covered in ice. But he
laughed and turned back. And jumped up high with all his might, to crack the puddle.
He slid of course, but this time he caught himself. Then he flung his arms up in the
air and did a twirl.
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