Theresa picked up her purse and dusted a few blades of grass from the red pattern embossed on the back of her thighs. She shook her head as she glanced at the men on the bench and started up the slow incline of the hill. The children below laughed happily as they kicked a red rubber ball over the dusty diamond. Theresa took slow steps toward the oak tree. Nervousness spread through her breast as she tried to feel casual. She tried to talk herself out of continuing, but something pushed her forward.
Lord Malinov, Journals of Lord Malinov