They watched her, and they watched the water. They held hands under the table and, only once in a while, took sips of their wine. It was like they were in their own world, and the girl was a part of it, but, really, it was mostly the two of them. I thought of the girl growing up, passing in and out of their lives, as all children do when they’re grown, but they’d still be at that table, holding hands, glancing over at each other from time to time. It was beautiful. It broke my heart.
