She could have walked away, slipped so quietly unnoticed under the clock and out to the car, and when he turned around with that white flower she would be too late to change her mind.

But she made the choice to hesitate, and by then her choice was made.

Now, though, when he turns from the water, he catches her eye, and holds her gaze. When he walks, he's walking towards her. She leaves the top button of her sweater unbuttoned now, on purpose, and when he passes he grazes his salt-stained fingers along her sunburned collarbone.

Now she thinks hesitation just may be the best choice ever.