She walks with a limp, he with a cane. Sometimes she loses her balance and grabs for his arm. He'll stop and ask if she's all all right. Of course, she says, and she sounds annoyed but he knows it's embarrassment she's hiding.

Two boys on skateboards zip by them, laugh as if they near knocked them down. The old man mumbles goddamit and she clucks her tongue at the curse.

She's grateful she has him to steady her, walk with her, curse for her. He slows down to stoop to a rash clump of phlox and neatly trims out a few. She helps him back to a standing position and takes the bouquet with a frown for the stealing of flowers that covers the smile in her heart.