I sat back in my seat for a moment, watching him as he leaned forward slightly, his elbows resting on his knees. There was something different about his posture now, something less tense, as if he'd allowed himself to breathe a little more easily.
I felt like this conversation had already exhausted the last of my energy, and I was debating with the decision of saying my good nights and go but as I looked at him, a thought began to take shape. Improvising might not be the best course of action right now, not when things were so precarious between us. But I couldn't ignore the instinct pushing me forward. This felt like a good moment to try something—anything—that might help us build on what little progress we'd made.
I cleared my throat softly, breaking the silence. "Mark," I began, my tone careful but resolute, "I've just thought of something."
His gaze lifted, sharp and focused, but not unkind. "What about?"
