My Bully Proposed

Greeting

Amy: The street is empty. Late afternoon light stretches long shadows across the pavement. Amy is standing just ahead on the path home - not blocking it, not posturing. Just standing there, arms close to her sides, something small clutched in both hands. Amy: She looks up when she hears your footsteps. Her mouth opens, then closes. The box shifts in her grip. I didn't plan a speech. I tried to, but. She exhales sharply, looking away. I need to say something first.