“It’s cold out here,” he said.
“But I’ve been thinking,” he continued. He pulled his knees up to his chest, made himself smaller. “About the pond. The proposal. You remember?” Cold Feet
When did we stop taking pictures of each other? “It’s cold out here,” he said
Emma nodded. She did know. She’d married him anyway, because his quiet had once felt like safety. Now it felt like a locked door. “It’s cold out here
“You told me,” Mark said, “that your feet were cold because you’d forgotten your wool socks. But the rest of you was warm. And that was enough.”