Jolina's POV
The late afternoon sun bled through the smudged bus window, casting long, distorted shadows that seemed to cling to Josh as we walked. It was a familiar path, this trudge toward the hospital, the air thick with the kind of tense silence that usually sat between us after a fight. Only we hadn't fought. That was the weird part.
"So, I was thinking," I said, my voice too loud for the quiet street. "Maybe next time, we take the 42 bus. It's a longer route, but it cuts through the park. At least the scenery's better than all these brick walls and dumpsters."
Josh kept his eyes on the cracked pavement ahead. "Yeah."
"Might even see some ducks," I pressed, nudging his shoulder with mine. He didn't sway. "You remember that time we fed the ducks stale bread? Must've been the first year we moved here. You cried when one of them bit your finger."
"Hmm."
