She glanced around the room, looking at her feet and then the framed prints on the wall. She felt like she’d never really seen the images before, despite so many years in the house. She avoided his face, knowing how deep the pain was she would see in his eyes.
She tried to make small talk, about the yard, the weather. She knew she sounded like an idiot, but couldn’t stand the silence.
After an eternity, he finally spoke.
“Look,” he said, “I’m exhausted. Shut the door behind you”
Glad for the excuse to leave, but terrified she’d never be back, she twisted the cold brass knob.