He’s kneeling, too. But instead of being on two knees, he’s down on one, hands clasped in front of him. The expression on his face is one I’ve seen hundreds, if not thousands, of times before, and his lips quirk up a bit at one side, like he has a secret. He opens his hands without a word, opening the small box within at the same time. The world feels hushed, not a sound reaching my ears above my own soft exhalation.
