Calm down, she says, but that's another conversation. The coffee's beginning to boil over. Charts on the wall hang loose on their drawing pins. He turns to sit and subsides into the chair, yet stays as bunched and clustered to himself as a primrose. He begins to read, slowly, mouthing some of the words.
Gun emplacements fall apart.
The cliff edges towards them. The child responds with a startled pleasure yelp. A drill bit cuts through steel. She rubs her nose against the child's nose. Some moisture is transferred.