“i don’t think you’re ready for me yet,” she said, hands outstretched to pull herself up into the sky.
“of course i’m not,” he agreed, offering her a foothold in his cupped palms. “you’re never ready for Magic; you’re always amazed every time flowers materialize out of thin air.”
“you make no sense,” she said, stepping lightly into his hands. “but you’re something i can believe in, the way you are right now, with sunlight attaching itself to your hair, at the close of this golden day.”
and he suddenly knew all he had to do was give her a sunset and she’d be his.

[smh]

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