Studying the curve of her face, following each lock of hair as it brushed her shoulder, he sat quietly and listened.

Learning the patterns of crinkles his eyes made as he smiled, glancing at his strong hand as it rested on the table, she savored a captive audience.

They were made for each other, but didn’t seem to know it. Without instructions, they were a bit lost. With all that’s properly acceptable in the world requiring manuals, people were forgetting how to act upon instinct.

Scent. Flavor. Touch.

The eyes can only behold a modicum of information. What these people need is a firm push out of their heads.

As if shaken from a daydream, she finished her story and smiled. He returned her smile and took her hand. They sat quietly, listening to their hearts.