He didn't help her down. He just walked back to the couch, picked up his drink, and said, "Most girls cry after. You can, if you want."
"You're wrong," she said. "The real you isn't the swing. The real you is the floor. Cold, hard, and waiting for someone to fall." playboy swing
In the elevator, her hands were still shaking. But she was smiling. Because for the first time in six months, she wasn't swinging. She was standing still. And standing still, she realized, was its own kind of power. He didn't help her down