It occurred to him, at this moment, kneeling down in front of her on the bathroom tile, there was a choice. Things done could be forgiven. They could both move on, together. With the right attitude, they could pretend all of what happened didn’t really mean much. They could start over again. If he were to say something, this was the time. But, she didn’t want him to. He wasn’t really taking care of her by cleaning up the wound, I mean, she could’ve put the alcohol on herself, but they both figured this would be remembered as their unspoken apology.
— Jack C. Buck