Smiled. The type of smile that men drive all night in a blinding rainstorm on their bike to see. The type of smile that keep men fighting brutal wars for years in the vain of hope of seeing it again. The type of smile that made me come to my feet, because if i didn't, I'd fall to my knees.

Violet moves, a readjustment, and I expect her to pull away. But instead, she leans further into me, her head on my shoulder, and her sweet scent becomes a warm blanket. No other place I'd rather be in the world right now. No place at all.