“Life can be sad,” he agreed. “But we make the best of it that we can.”
I leaned my cheek on my free hand. His eyes softened and darkened. There was rain on the window and music and laughter all around us, but he and I existed in a pocket of calm outside of the rush of time. I looked into his eyes and he looked into mine, and I grew pleasantly warm and sleepy. He was still pressing my hand between his. “This is nice,” I heard myself saying.