(A) She calls out to him.

The birds in the trees and the rustling of leaves blend seamlessly into the distant noise of traffic; the resulting symphony is a soothing lullaby, an opiate dulling the senses. Suddenly she is overcome by an irresistible urge to break the white noise. "Hey!" she yells impulsively, and realizing that she has no good reason at all to be calling out to him, turns an unmistakable shade of pink.

At the sound of her voice he stops in his tracks but does not look up from the trail. Standing there in front of her he takes a breath, looks from one side to the other surreptitiously, and takes another step forward. But suddenly he feels rude, and not wanting to leave the park on such terms turns to face her. "Hey," he says, and not knowing what else is expected of him cocks his head bewilderedly.

A rush and a push and she manages to sputter out the apology she has long been wanting to give. "I'm sorry for yelling at you a while ago," she begins sheepishly. And emboldened by the fact that he has not wandered away in disgust continues, "It's a lovely day to toss the Frisbee about."

"Yes. Yes it is." At a loss for words after this curt reply she sits silent for a time. A squirrel, emboldened by the stillness, steels his nerves, hops one, two, three times, and digs in the soft earth inches from her polka-dotted kitten heels.

Each second grows heavier and heavier, and as time layers upon itself like sedimentary rock so too does the future that could be, the future that could be past. "So..." they start, simultaneously, and breaking into irrational giggles the conversation finally flows somewhat freely. They trade barbs, back and forth, and with each successive reply they weave in and out of each other until they find themselves inexplicably enmeshed. And just as they begin to settle, begin to pull down the ramparts and slowly bleed into one another, a sharp and insistent yelp breaks through.

"Hey, Tom! Let's go. We need to be in Gaithersburg in an hour," interrupts Tom's friend, forgotten at his side and insistently tapping an impatient foot in the grass.

Seeing that his friend will wait no longer, he reluctantly assents. Pulling his shirt taut and smoothing the denim bunched about his thighs, he turns. "Can I call you sometime?" he asks lightly, almost too politely.

Does she:

(A) give him her phone number;

or

(B) politely decline?