Silence.
It reigned oppressive for too long. It existed unmarred by anything so mundane as movement or expression, its only competition the need for breath by both men in the room, both otherwise frozen: both caught up by some form of distress and unable to make the first move.
A cramp in Bertran's lower back broke it as he gasped and stumbled sideways into the windowsill; Miguel's expression showed both poorly hidden relief and disappointment, and a wave of bitterness swept through Bertran.
"Let us proceed to the next meeting," Bertran said heavily, his intentions clumsy as Miguel came to assist him.
