Chad found himself trailing after her, gravel crunching under her wheels, wondering how he’d allowed it to happen. He thought of grabbing the handle of her chair; would it be rude? Well, manners be damned, Chad did it anyway, forcing her to stop. The rifle slid off her lap.
“Ma’am.”
“The name is Pearl.”
“Alright, Miss Pearl,” he addressed her, “if you insist on coming along, please let me go in first.” Chad was quick to add, “As a matter of protocol.”
She sighed. “I suppose.” She bent to pick up the rifle and again he wondered, should he help her, would it be appreciated? He was uncertain and it bugged him. Most times he knew how to handle himself around others. Before he could decide, though, she had the gun back in her capable clutches.