As he ran around the playground with arms outstretched, vroom noises spouting from his lips, others rolled their eyes at him.

While she was dancing to imaginary music, twirling into curtsies and kicking her leg out, her parents raised their eyebrows and whispered to one another, “It’s only temporary. She’ll grow out of it.”

Ten years later, in the hallways of high school, they bumped into one another. As he scooped to pick up her books, she batted her eyes at him. While she took her books back from him, he gave a low bow and said, “Milady.”

Throughout high school, and most of his and her lives, others laughed behind their hands as they moved out of his and her way.

As he opened doors for her, she smiled at him and waltzed past. While she created delicious concoctions for dinner, he grinned and dug right in. As he held her hand when they strolled through gardens, she gazed at their hands like she’d never let go. While she gripped his hand during her mother’s funeral, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and said, “I’m right here.” As he passed along the bill, she cringed. While she handed him the foreclosure notice, he frowned. Thirty years later, the magic had disappeared. In court, their faces were stony as they met a settlement.

When they left the courthouse, their hands brushed against one another. He jumped from the ice her touch emitted. She curled her fingers away from the fire he left. But neither could deny that, for a second, sparks entwined them together again…