"Fire would sorta burn up the scent," Alex said, though it seemed very likely that Fred was right. Caitlin was dead. And it looked like she was blaming herself in the process. He scratched at his chin thoughtfully. Chick flicks? He couldn't see the connection between what happened in California to those things. Sappy romances or whatever with a lot of sentiment. Cheap tactics for tears. They had a discussion about that in the film and cinema studies class.
Alex broke the illusion, returning them to where they stood near the woods. It was probably good to get them both out of there. His eyes now looked at the ground, "It isn't your fault, you know. Because you sound like it is your fault. It's not. Caitlin could've chosen a lot of ways to get rid of that guy, but she chose that."