A crowded restaurant. People--so many people--everywehere, some shouting; some laughing; a baby, somewhere, crying; waiters singing happy birthday to an embarrassed woman.

Plates and silverware clatter.

He girns at me, just a little. I thought it was supposed to be a black-tie sort of place, he says, I'm sorry about all this. He waves one elegant hand at our surroundings.

But it's no problem. I don't care, don't even really notice.

The candles cast gold into his emerald eyes. He smiles again and reaches out for a sip of his wine.

Somewhere, another baby begins to cry as a platter is dropped.

I reach my hand across the table to grasp his. He glances up at me again, and laces his fingers with mine.

It's perfect.

The End