The old man sat in Central Park, feeding the birds and watching the world go by. He watched nannies pushing strollers, runners pounding out their rhythms across the pavement and droves of tourists, eyes wide in wonder at the vastness of the park. None of these things caught his attention though—until one pair. The girl was beautiful, chestnut hair held back by a blue silk headband matching the sapphire dress adorning her lithe body. The boy, slightly taller than his companion, had her matching dark hair and eyes. His pressed khaki pants and silk neck scarf spoke of his Upper East Side breeding. Though there was nothing unusual about them, the old man was intrigued. They looked like a couple, but they didn't touch. Their heads inclined towards each other as they meandered along the path. The old man noticed the sparkle in the girl's eyes when she spoke to him and the soft smile the boy bestowed on the girl when she wasn't looking. They kept walking slowly but paused, giggled and blushed as a lone butterfly flitted across their path, but still they did not touch. When the girl bent to smell some flowers blooming to the side of the lane, the boy reached out, transfixed by the girl. But still he didn't touch. They walked again, shoulders remaining inches apart as they spoke softly to one another. As they approached the entrance of the park, they slowed slightly, soaking in the moment. The boy's hand twitched by her still one, electrifying when fingers danced across the back of her hand. Though he couldn't see their eyes, the old man knew something had shifted. The girl's hand moved slightly, pinkie grazing across his own. The boy looked down at their hands, each twitching and begging for more, then once at her.
And then they touched.