Shrouded and veiled in black, she's noticed him - seen how he sits, still as a statue, and approaches with soft footsteps. The weight on his mind is obvious, around him like a dark cloud that sheds snow instead of tears.
He sits, and so does she, beside him instead of in front, gloved hands on her lap.
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He sits, and so does she, beside him instead of in front, gloved hands on her lap.
"Who's on your mind?"
What he might be considering is...obvious.