“No.”
“Public location?”
“Yes.”
“Clear menu information?”
“Yes.”
Dani smiled.
“Deal.”
We filmed the final segment near the checkout. I held the coral shoes. Dani wore the hydration belt.
“The shoes were selected because Dani pays attention to my movement rather than relying exclusively on product data,” I said to the camera.
Dani placed one hand over her heart.
“That is the nicest thing she has ever said to me.”
“I selected the belt because Dani takes care of everyone else’s needs and frequently ignores preventable problems in her own equipment.”
Her smile softened. The camera captured it. Dani looked into the lens.
“I picked Amy’s shoes because she’s learning that comfort isn’t laziness and changing a plan isn’t failure.”
The store noise faded around me. She continued.
“And I picked the blue shorts because she should see herself the way I see her.”
My grip tightened on the shoe box. This was not part of the script.
“How do you see her?” the salesperson asked from behind the camera.
Dani’s attention settled on me.
“Strong,” she said. “Brave. And a lot brighter than she lets herself be.”
Her answer exposed how badly I wanted it. I should have redirected. Made a joke. Mentioned the scoring criteria.
Instead, I said, “You were only supposed to explain the product.”
“I did.”
The salesperson turned off the camera. For several seconds, neither of us moved.
“Too much?” Dani asked quietly.
“No.”
“Truth?”
“No.”
I could not say more in the store. I bought the shoes. Dani bought the shorts. We walked outside carrying matching sponsor bags. The evening had turned warm. People moved along the riverfront beneath strings of restaurant lights. An older woman passing with a small terrier smiled at us.
“You make a beautiful couple,” she said.
