And then stood back up.

And took a breath.

And started to go. But stopped. And remembered the small maroon velvet pouch Lendall had brought to her. And figured she’d take it. It was hers, after all.

She went to it. And Lendall heard her footsteps and wondered what she was doing and pressed his ear up against the door.

But he heard nothing more, because Gayle had stopped. And was staring at the pouch—which she was able to see thanks to the faint light that was spilling out onto the porch from from the lamp on the end table in Lendall’s living room.

Gayle remembered Lendall pointing to the pouch and saying something about her not having all the facts yet—before he stormed into his house and slammed (and locked) the door behind him. And she wondered what was in it. So she leaned down and picked up the small maroon velvet pouch from off the small table between their Adirondack chairs.

She could tell that it contained something small and solid—a little box, it felt like.

She shook the pouch a bit, trying to gather more information. And sat back down in her Adirondack chair and opened it—but couldn’t quite see inside, because there wasn’t enough light.

Because Lendall had turned off the porch light.

Which was really childish, she thought.

And then she reached inside the pouch and her fingers found a small box—which she pulled out.

The box was fuzzy, like the little pouch.

And Gayle wondered what it was.

It definitely wasn’t what she had asked Lendall to bring her.

“Lendall!” she called. And she got up out of her chair and rapped on the storm door and asked, “Lendall, what is this?”

Lendall felt that strange lightness fill up his insides again. Gayle must have been looking inside the pouch he had given her.

“What the heck is this, Lendall?”

Lendall flicked the porch light on—which allowed Gayle to see that the box she was holding was the same color as the pouch it had come in.

And then the seal of the weather stripping popped as Lendall slowly pulled open the main door. And Gayle looked up and saw Lendall push open the aluminum storm door, and she asked again, “Lendall! What is this?”

It was pretty obvious what Gayle had in her hand.

But she was so fixated with what it wasn’t that she was unable to comprehend what it was.

“It’s a ring, Gayle,” said Lendall gently as he stepped out onto the porch, pulling the wooden front door closed behind him.

“What?!?” Gayle winced.

“It’s a ring,” repeated Lendall. The storm door swung shut behind him.

“Wha—?!?” Gayle looked up at Lendall. And then at the maroon velvet box. And then back up at Lendall. “Noooo,” she whispered.

“Yeah,” Lendall gently refuted.

And then Gayle realized what she was holding in her hand.

And she began to understand what was happening.

And she felt a strange lightness fill up her insides. It made her feel like a light bulb had just been switched on inside her. And like she might start rising like a helium balloon.