Sometimes a night is so exquisite; the sky lavender, the clouds pink, the air just the right amount of cool that you wonder, have I been missing this? Taking it for granted? Because it's not like it's Christmas, or your birthday, or prom, or anything. It's just a weekend night, and you're out and about with the person who loves you, and the beer is perfectly cold and the waiter is so endearing, and you have to wonder what is going on here? Why is there so much beauty on an ordinary summer night? And at the end of the meal when the fortune cookies come, they confirm everything.
Soon you'll receive pleasant news, yours says.
And his: Look around; happiness is trying to catch you.
"I think that's the pleasant news I've been waiting for," you say.
And it is.
Because you want nothing but this very moment.