"Go ahead," she says, first nodding him along the path then going a step further to lead him herself. Easier, that way. She's already holding his hand, and she has no intention of letting go. "I thought I'd be sick of them too. I feel bad, letting them go to waste. Animals come and eat them sometimes, which makes me feel a little better. I couldn't pick them all by myself anyway."

Tucked between foliage are the generous red fruit. Carolina weaves between fence spokes to reach them, Gerry in tow.

His hand is a warm anchor amidst cool air. Her grip on him is strong, declarative.

Carolina pulls him down into a crouch beside her. Reaches into the leafy furl and plucks out a strawberry.

"Usually I'd wash them off first, but... Here."