He’s a perpetual outlander. Whenever cords of insecurity throttled him, he’d track the movement of the monster on a paper-page in his favourite haunt.
She’d no lean-on for emotional support. Her past wounds still wide open, it’s beyond her bandwidth to deep-dive into another affaire de coeur.
One day, while getting to her corner in a bar-cum-restaurant, she tripped just near where he sat. He’s agile enough to arrest her headlong fall and take her in his arms. She invited him over on the far side.
The inn was about to put up the shutters. They’re still talking on, peppily.
Accidental Grace
