Picnic
She lies back on the blanket, watching the glow of evening fade into twilight. He lies on one side, watching her thoughts flit across her face.
"What are you thinking?"
"I'm thinking that I love this time of night, particularly when the moon is rising early. Moonlight is just so comfortable, isn't it? I mean, sunlight is warm, but it's also harsh, it shows everything. Moonlight is more mysterious, it leaves things in shadow."
Silence falls for a while.
"I think you're right."
"You think?"
"I might need to think about it some more. I mean, to me, moonlight has always been cold and unreachable, aloof."
Puzzlement flits across her face.
"What's that?"
"What's what?"
"Aloof."
"Oh, ummm…distanced."
"Oh."
They fall silent again, the only noises being the far off sounds of the city and the closer susurrations of the wind through grass and trees, whispering around the pair.
Eventually it gets colder, a chill settles with the dew falling. Reluctantly the couple pack up the picnic and stand, ready to leave.
"Thankyou for taking a chance on the letter. This was nice."
"It was better than nice. Can we get together again sometime?"
"Sure! How about at the Crown some night this week!"
"Sounds great. Well, goodnight."
"Goodnight"
He strides off into the gathering darkness. She watches until he is out of sight, then picks up the substantially lighter picnic basket and skips into the night, practically floating in joy. The moonlight silvers her hair and eyes and dances around her as she leaves.