His hand envelops hers, a precaution as they dart through traffic. A quick bound brings them onto the sidewalk and she abandons their previous conversation to start another.
"You know," she says, smiling at the back of his head, "there are some days when I love you very much."
Pausing for the next stoplight, he turns, looks at her with unfeigned curiosity. "Are there really?"
"Some," she tells him with a considering nod, pressing the button of the crosswalk with eagerness: it's her turn. (She had the last four, but it's still her turn. They didn't wait for those to change.) "They're surprisingly enjoyable – you might want to give it a try."
"But not with myself, I'd imagine," he adds for her and she laughs at the paradoxical idea.
"No," she says, still smiling.
"No," he agrees, smiling wider.
The light flashes WALK and they take off at a run.