You know, it’s very good for a man to have laughing eyes! But at that moment, his eyes weren’t laughing across the restaurant table from me. His serious face told me–through all the electric and fragrant greens, the spray and the shine of the wild bursts of fruit, the messy blood-red days and the stench and the stink too—this finally was a man who’d never flinch, never leave my side when things were messy, or if he was introduced to something new. This was a man who’d be happy when I bloomed.
