He wished all Saturday mornings could be like this. They had spent all morning by the lake companionably doing their own things. For her that meant reading and for him… well, reading her. He loved how her ears would turn pink when she realized that his gaze was on her. And how she'd break out into giggles and smile that slow, shy smile. She'd raise her eyebrows and shrug at him, never losing that twinkle in her eye. Sometimes he felt like he could drown in her. His own piece of perfection.

In the afternoon, he had taken her out to lunch at some old, dusty restaurant. At first, he was afraid she wouldn't like it. She had sneezed four times in a row. But she still smiled, bleary-eyed. And then, when the food came, he realized that he had forgotten she was a vegetarian. Politely, she had taken a few bites out of her lamp chops before hinting at dessert. He was grateful. Quickly, he had finished off his own lunch and ordered two sundaes…with cherries, of course.

Her hair had glistened in the evening; the sunset bouncing off its smooth, silky surface. They had settled down beneath an old, oaken tree near the field. Her hand was soft, he realized, as its fragileness was encompassed in his fingers for the first time. The sunset had been dazzling beyond belief, but her eyes had been even more dazzling. The turquoise black holes had drawn him into their center, where he saw nothing but blackness with an intensity that was hers. He loved her, he knew.

And on the way back, he had reached to her with a coarse palm and lifted her face towards him.

"I love you," he said, unflinchingly.

She smiled and said the most beautiful four, not three, words in the world.

"I love you too."

And what that, she had pulled his face down and filled the last remaining space between them.

Saturday Afternoon. His cherry on a chocolate sundae.