The frog sat on Zoran's shoe as though it had a ticket for that seat. Sanela shone her torch on it, crouched, and gently transferred it into a plastic bucket. It was her first night with the small volunteer group that carried frogs across a local road during spring rains. Zoran had been coming for years. His raincoat lacked a button, and he wished every rescued passenger a good journey.
At first his constant joking irritated Sanela. The organiser had explained where they could stand and when they must wait, and she wanted to be certain they did everything correctly. After her divorce she had only recently begun going among people again without a friend to introduce her. She did not want her first independent decision to look like pointless standing in the rain. Entirely unfairly, Zoran came to represent everything she could not arrange in advance.
Then she saw how he checked an empty bucket before putting it down, making sure no small creature remained beneath the rim. He stopped speaking as soon as a car could be heard. When another volunteer's torch began slipping, he handed over his spare without a joke. Sanela realised his apparent lack of seriousness had a perfectly reliable schedule. He simply did not wear it on his face.
Near midnight they were left working together along a short stretch of road. They talked between passing vehicles. She said she taught accounting to adults. He repaired coffee machines and spent most days listening to people claim they had inserted more money than they actually had. She asked whether he believed them. 'Some,' he said. 'Frogs generally don't lie.' This time she laughed before deciding whether the joke was good.
When the operation ended, Zoran asked whether she wanted breakfast. It was far too early for breakfast and too late for dinner. Sanela said she worked in the morning. He nodded and began stacking buckets. Only while removing her wet gloves did she realise he might not have meant that morning. She returned and asked about Saturday. In her hurry she suggested seven. Zoran looked at the sky, then at her. He said people who did not cross roads by hopping could manage nine.
On Saturday she barely recognised him without his raincoat. He sat in the bakery, seriously examining the pastry selection. Sanela was four minutes late and did not offer an entire explanation in apology. She showed him a wet patch on her sleeve. It was raining again. Zoran moved his cup and made room for her.