As they walked along the trail, she chattered happily about the progress in her garden. The red ribbon intertwined in her hair like a bird hopping among the foliage, moving and floating in the late light. His eyes couldn't tear themselves away from it, nor could his heart.
He calmly reached out his hand toward her and his fingers touched the loose end of the ribbon, pausing there, resting under the delicate appliqué. She turned when she felt the slight resistance in her hair and stood still, surprised to see him so solemnly holding the ribbon that held those unruly curls.
He took a step toward her.
No words were spoken, no bold gestures were made; only his hand lightly holding that red tip. His dark eyes did not look directly at her, they just rested on the ribbon that was silently kissed.
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