Charles and Nora sat on a wooden bench at the outskirts of the village, away from the bustle of the streets where women strolled with their children.
The bench was under the shade of a large tree, and the cool air offered some relief from the afternoon heat.
In front of them, the ice cream tubs rested on the bench—Charles's chocolate tub still half-full, Nora's mint tub completely empty.
Charles held a plastic spoon, stirring the melted ice cream while gazing at the horizon, where the sun painted the sky a soft orange.
The cries and laughter of children drifted from the distance, a constant noise that was starting to grate on him.
He glanced at Nora out of the corner of his eye.
She was leaning back against the bench, arms crossed, her expression relaxed, though her gray eyes were fixed on her empty mint tub, as if considering licking the remnants.
Charles hesitated about asking more questions about the village.
