Under the tentacles of a gnarled oak, he parked and exited the car, locking it with a ‘beep’ of his key. He strolled through fallen leaves towards the park’s wrought-iron gate where she waited, her back to him, hands thrust deep into coat pockets.

“Hello, Carol.”

She turned, first her head, followed by a shift in her feet so that she faced him. A hesitant smile. “Hello, Mike,” she said, lilting tones dancing on the cool breeze.

Withdrawing both hands from her pockets, she prepared to offer one. He shook his head, opened his arms: “Come here.”

She stepped into his embrace for the first time. Clinging to his waist, she nuzzled into his neck and sighed at the scent of his woody aftershave.

A cheek resting against copper hair, he inhaled the lemon freshness of shampoo and drew her in close. In silence, they remained locked. Words were not needed: their hearts, beating in unison, said it all.