“It’s just a bluff. I don’t really know what I’m doing.” “Do you think Adam knew what he was doing?” “Not hardly.” Her husband slowly closed his hand around hers. “It’s not as if any of us know what we’re doing, not really: we’re just faking it until it feels natural. At least, that’s what I’ve concluded after all these years.” It had been eighteen years since the revolution. Nearly nineteen years had passed since they’d met, fifteen since they’d married. And he still managed to surprise her from time to time. “I’m worried, ’Ras.”
