“I do,” he agrees, and considers it. “I don’t mean to insult your choice to share it. I just… I know so much can be in the details. The small moments that loom large inside your chest. So I don’t want to presume either. Telling me about that,” he dips his head to her, “it’s not nothing.”

He won’t say thank you. But he hopes she understands.

“Were you still up for guitar lessons?”