He hunched over on the cold bench, head sagging and elbows heavy on his thighs. “I love you, I do. I just feel like we’re so disconnected.”
Wrapping her arms around her waist, she shivered, feeling the wind bite at the skin of her cheeks, raw with tears.
A shadow fell over them, blocking the sun, and she looked up to see a man dressed in tight black clothes, his face white, beret askew. Eyes wide, the man pantomimed climbing a ladder and being trapped in a prison.
“Fuck off, mime,” they said in unison and smiled, hands reaching.