They were a pair. They walked a lot and often. Almost daily. There was always a yard or two between them. Never too much for a motorcycle to go between them. Never too close for comfort.

May be they never had to whisper. The distance was constant. Like those between the tamarind trees in NH-45.  The way it unfolded day after day was classy. All that stays is the walk, the pair disappeared like those trees in NH-45.