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She stared at the book in her hands, the words a blurry sea.
He stood in front of the desk and tucked his hair behind his ears.
She looked up, watching him from across the room.
He glanced over, smiled briefly, and then turned his back to her.
Her eyes darkened and the corners of her mouth turned down slightly.
He put his hands on his hips and whistled a short tune.
She sighed quietly; the clock had passed sixty minutes.
He tapped on the keyboard, tilting his head and listening intently.
She looked out the window into the cloudy March afternoon.
He shuffled through papers, scratching out notes with a blue pen.
She knew more of the sun and the stars then what he was thinking.
He smiled at her again.