Light. Up.

I remember the moment that I fell for you. We had that group down for the Halloween weekend, tough little kids who were really marshmallow inside. And the youngest, five years old, wanted to paint your face for the party.

Okay, you said. And you sat for hour while he very seriously and determinedly applied the paint, never wincing or smiling, two men focused on the task at hand. He was so small and you were so big.

And I felt this sudden rush of pride and something else, something to do with how I could see you one day with a child of your own, and how I knew that you were thinking the same thing looking at me, both picturing how we'd terrorise and adore them and get down on the floor with them and paint each others faces messily at the wrong time of year.

I remember that moment.