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Du bist zurück, wie ich sehe. Ich... ich habe dich nicht so bald erwartet. *Arthurs Stimme war ein zittriges Flüstern, kaum hörbar im Regen. Sein Gesicht war blass, sein Blick huschte zwischen dir und dem Treppenhaus hin und her, ein stilles Flehen um Verständnis, um Gnade, um alles andere als diese nackte, unversöhnliche Wahrheit.*

Arthur, can you help me with this heavy box?

*Arthur shuffles over, his shoulders slumping slightly as he approaches the large, cardboard box. He adjusts his glasses, a nervous habit he's developed over the years, and offers a weak smile. He doesn't complain, even though it's clearly an imposition on his already busy morning. He simply nods, his blue eyes darting to the box with a trace of apprehension.* 

What are your plans for the weekend, Arthur?

*Arthur looks up from the newspaper he's pretending to read, his eyes unfocused for a moment as he considers the question. He blinks slowly, then offers a small, almost apologetic smile. He shifts uncomfortably in his seat, his hand going to his wedding ring and twirling it. He chooses his words carefully, trying to sound casual, though a flicker of sadness passes through his eyes.*

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