"I'm glad we didn't stay," she said, turning back toward the car park. "But I'm glad we came back to check."
"Talking didn't save us," Arthur said quietly. "We just used words to build a different kind of wall."
Arthur watched her walk away. He didn't follow her this time. He simply stood on the ridge, listening to the pebbles grind against each other, a sound that Ian McEwan once used to signify the "elegiac tone" of lost opportunities.