They barely spoke for the rest of the afternoon. She made tea. He drank it like it was a peace offering. They avoided eye contact until the silence settled into something tolerable. Around dusk, she stood at the bottom of the attic stairs again, key in hand.
He joined her without asking. “You’re really gonna do it?” he asked. “I think so.” Michael looked at the key she was holding, he wanted to be the person to open the padlock. “Mind if I…?” She nodded. He didn’t thank her.