Heh. You're probably right. I guess it's something I'm working on.
[He strolls along, self-conscious in the way that he's conscious of himself: the lines of contact where her palm touches his, the way his arms swing differently because one of them's holding hands with her, his footsteps on the cobblestones. It feels like they've been walking forever, in a way. It feels like he could've walked home with her every day of his life.
He rubs under his nose, then waves his pointer vaguely at the sky.]
Hey, you know? I've been thinking about it, and I don't think it's spring at all. I mean, look how long the days are, right?
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[He strolls along, self-conscious in the way that he's conscious of himself: the lines of contact where her palm touches his, the way his arms swing differently because one of them's holding hands with her, his footsteps on the cobblestones. It feels like they've been walking forever, in a way. It feels like he could've walked home with her every day of his life.
He rubs under his nose, then waves his pointer vaguely at the sky.]
Hey, you know? I've been thinking about it, and I don't think it's spring at all. I mean, look how long the days are, right?