This Has To Be The Most Self-centered

He Stepped Toward Her, And Her Heart Just Ached From It. His Face Was So Handsome, And So Dear, And So Perfectly Wonderfully Familiar. She Knew The Slope Of His Cheeks, And The Exact Shade Of His Eys, Brownish Near The Iris, Melting Into Green At The Edge. And His Mouth-she Knew That Mouth, The Look Of It, The Feel Of It. She Knew His Smile, And She Knew His Frown, And She Knew- She Knew Far To Much.

He Said He Loved Me,” She Whispered. Daniel Swallowed, And He Had The Strangest Sensation, Almost A Premonition Of What It Must Like To Be A Parent. Someday, God Willing, He’d Have A Daughter, And That Daughter Would Look Like The Woman Standing In Front Of Him, And If Ever She Looked At Him With That Bewildered Expression, Whispering, “he Said He Loved Me . . .” Nothing Short Of Murder Would Be An Acceptable Response.

There,” She Said Triumphantly. “like That.” He Began To Wonder If They Were Speaking The Same Language. “like What?” “that! What You Just Said.” He Crossed His Arms. It Seemed The Only Acceptable Reply. If She Couldn’t Speak In Complete Sentences, He Saw No Reason Why He Had To Speak At All.

He Didn’t Know Where The Thought Had Come From, Or What Strange Corner Of His Brain Had Come To That Conclusion, Because He Was Quite Certain It Would Be Nearly Impossible To Live With Her, But Somehow He Knew That It Wouldn’t Be At All Difficult To Love Her.

It Was One Of Those Things That Had To Be Experienced To Be Understood