The end

As we cross City Hall Square, you point to a bench.

“Let’s sit for a while,” you say, and we do.

Resting your head on my shoulder, you squeeze my hand gently. “I love you,” you say, voice breaking. “You know that, right?”

My lips part, but no words appear, so I just nod; you get up, kiss me and walk away.

Across the square, a large dog barks at a flock of pigeons. The frightened birds spiral upward away from their would-be attacker, conduct a few flybys, then set down in another, presumably safer, part of the square.