“Well, I think you’re brave, Dear.”

“We’ve been through this before, Audrey, I’m always brave.”

“Then why are you denying me eye contact? It seems to me that you’re nervous.”

“I’m not nervous!”

“You look nervous, as you fling that mud through the air, you know.”

“Yes, well, that could be because you keep bringing up tomorrow, Ma’am,” he replies, while standing up.

“Calling me names won’t help you sort your mind. What are you doing digging in the mud, anyway? ”

“Would you like a pie in the face,” he threatens, as mud goes flying through the air. Landing near her feet.

“I think you’re worried about a pie in your face, quite frankly,” she yelps, while she dances over two and three steps.

“I am not! What I’m doing is fishing, you see…”

“Yes, you are, Mister. Fishing? Umm, that’s mud. Just mud. Only mud.”

“Fix it!”

“I can’t fix it. This moment was meant to be, I believe.”

“What if I mess up horridly?”

“What if you do? It won’t change a thing. I’ll still be here, Darling.”

“Why?”

“Well, because I want to be, and you were here supporting me when no one else was, probably, so that makes us…us. You haven’t missed a single moment of mine. How many horrid moments did you encourage me through, Sir?”

“I can’t think of one, actually. No such moments for you.”

“There’s been plenty, ya Goof. Move over, please. What kind of fish are we looking for in here?” She questions, as her hands begin digging.

“Turtles.”

“Turtles?”

“Turtles…”

“…if you’re looking for turtles, then I’m looking for turtles.”

“There won’t be any turtles, I fear.”

“There will always be turtles…”