The sunset was almost enough to make romantics of us. I grasped his hand, compelled by nature to some kind of entry-level giddiness. I un-curled my toes and kicked the cool sand; it rained lightly over furtively scrambling ghost crabs. The dog whined on-leash. Bending over, a head pat; standing up on tip-toes, a hug and quick caress. Then one of us broke the sustained peace of the ocean breeze and lapping waves with a bad joke or punch on the arm. Ha, back to normal we went. Quickly, inward, like a collapsing house of cards. Laughing. Unromantic and inappropriate. Wisecracking. Bantering like Grant and Hepburn. Our normal. Content.
