I soak them in. I think about her saying she loves him. I think about the moment he reaches for her hand, the way he looks up at her—just a little uncertain that she’ll want his hand in hers. I think about the curve of his lips and the way his tiny shoulders drop on a sigh when she effortlessly wraps her fingers around his, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. I stand here and think way too damn much as I stare at them curled into each other. I let myself imagine things that I have no business imagining. Things I’m not sure I could ever live up to.
