It might have been on impulse. Likely, it wasn’t. His identity was secret no longer. Cowardice has a hard time hidden away. Stirring at every sound. Wrestling his tendons during every movement. Will he tense? Not this time. But cowardice is stubborn.

She knew this. Like all women know, and like most women she was oblivious. So she lays out her booby-trapped phrases and sly glances without really knowing why. Tempting cowardice is the purpose. Again, again, again. Never waining, because her nature won’t allow it.

He knew this. It was fleeting—the deception. But it was grand.