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The Art of Being...
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"Steph is good, the best I've been lately," she replied. "And how's Will?"
"Good, I'm glad. And, Will is good."
And this is the part where those genuine smiles come in, for the responses to those questions are rarely as they were.
The only invasion of their solitude was traces of light that crept through the stitches of the soft quilt. Side by side they laid and watched their fingertips brush back and forth as they held up the makeshift tent that sheltered them.
He rolled over and let his back hold up the blankets, resting on his elbows, his head above hers. He stared down and their eyes met.
"What?" she said, her face was unsure, but smiling. "What are you looking at?"
"Well, yeah, but...why?"
"Because ..." he said smiling. "You're cute."
He kissed her cheek.
He kissed her other cheek.
"...and beautiful, and I like looking at pretty things."
He kissed her lips. They parted and opened their eyes. His were green and darkened with eyeliner. He