She spins in small circles, her short crop of wavy brown hair pinned down closely. He looks into her eyes and she looks into his. Smiling. Almost laughing. He is sidled into the soft curve of her right hip, a spot made just for him. His legs press against her navy and green striped dress.
“Wheee!” she says, stopping for a moment and then starting to spin again. “Wheee!”
She doesn’t see the fountain shooting up just behind them. Doesn’t notice the trees are full with broad green leaves or the late afternoon fog that has just begun to roll into the city, creeping into the sky with swaths of thin grey cloud. She sees only him. He sees only her. They are caught in a vortex. The center of the world the six inches between their noses.