Us

by David Nicholls

But oh, the joy of it, the joy and bliss and thrill of each consecutive day, so unlike anything I had experienced before. It was dizzying, really, to be in love at last.

‘It’s not about what you liked and didn’t like,’ Connie would reply, ‘it’s about what it made you feel.’

Was it the happiest day of our lives? Probably not, if only because the truly happy days tend not to involve so much organisation, are rarely so public or so expensive. The happy ones sneak up, unexpected.