He swallows, hard.
Clears his throat and runs a hand through his hair.
She bites her lip and holds the tears in,
holds herself together.
A glimpse of silence, like cars under an overpass on a rainy day.
The calm before the downpour.
The eye of the storm.
What do you do when there's nothing left to say?
What do you say when there's nothing left to do?