“Go ahead,” he urged, walking backward to his end of the bridge. His voice dropped to a whisper. “Say something.” She watched his lips forming the words; at the same time she heard them so clearly that she felt them under her skin, under her winter coat, so near and full of warmth that she felt herself go hot.

“Hi,” she whispered, unsure of what else to say.

“Do you stack sats?" he whispered back.