Presence, cont'd

"Ash- I hafta ask... what is this?" She holds up a half-crumpled newspaper, forcing a casual stance, wearing only Ash's big Boston Marathon t-shirt.
"An advertisement for love." His voice is cold, blunt, without a second's hesitation. He exhales from a long drag, relaxed. He sees her lose her balance from the corner of his eye and glares back towards the window. The silence is deafening and stiff. He feels her moistening stare.
"Ten years I thought you loved me." Her voice is barely there.
"Did I say that?"
"You know you barely speak in words, Ash."
"You're right."
"So I'm not enough."
"You're enough."
"Then what else are you looking for? Damnit Ash! What the Hell are you asking from me? Don't you know that I love you?"
"You don't know how to love Trish. And neither do I."
******