I like all things red.
I like my Gryffindor Quidditch robes, soaked with sweat, after another glorious Saturday morning victory.
I like that red flash of light that has saved my skin a hundred times over.
I like the red air of a late summer's sunset – dusty and sultry with the hint of midnight adventure…
Mostly, I like your red.
I like the way your cheeks flush red when I kiss you like there's no tomorrow. And only a short while ago, there might not have been a tomorrow.
I like the way your red hair lives in the sunshine, in the snow, in the dusky afternoons.
I like you. You are fire. You are warmth and determination and happiness and comfort and you get me going when I'm down. You are my fire.
