They drove back with the radio off, her hand resting on his thigh without either of them commenting on it, the city lights sliding past the windows in long smears of color. Neither of them talked much. It didn’t feel like it needed to.
He walked her to her door the same path, the same lamps, except everything about it felt different now, recontextualized, like a familiar room rearranged while you slept.
“Today was a lot,” she said, at her door, not quite ready to go inside.
“Today was the banquet, the toast, the parking lot, and apparently also the best night I’ve had in longer than I want to admit.” He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear the gesture from the lake, except there was nothing tentative about it now. “I keep waiting for the part where I’m supposed to feel like this is to
