"I'm not talking to you."

     "I'm not talking to you," she said and pulled hard on the sheet of plywood.

     "Whhhhyyyy?" 

     "We can start with you blowing up our collective home." 

     "Did I hit it?" The tanker asked. 

     The woman blew out a breath and shook her head. 

     She moved through the exposed tunnel about twenty feet to a spot that had already been patched with bullet-proof glass.  This was maybe three hundred yards from where we'd been photographing the many, many footprints in the sand. 

     "What do you want for dinner?" He dropped in and his breath was hot in the dampness so little steam puffs.  "DON'T!!" She turned the top of her body towards him and held up the traffic cop STOP handsign.  "Why can't I come with you?" 

     "Because." 

     "Because why?" 

     "Because I love you." 

     The man's shoulders slumped.  "Then don't go again."