Kyoko snuggled up closer to her husband. She was a little bit drunk, just like him, and grew goose b.u.mps from the unexpected night chill, just like him. She felt them under her fingers as she slid her hand further inside his shirt sleeve.There was a lot to be said about Swedish midsummer. Accurately placed around summer solstice instead of mid-July was one thing and pleasantly lacking everyday rain was another. "Gorgeous hours of light" Yukio would have added should she ask. It was but an hour since he stopped alternatively looking at his wrist.w.a.tch and the darkening skies above them.
Summer temperatures, however wasn"t one of them. The high school rooftop from her youth had been warmer, if her memories from that night before the cultural festival served her correctly.
No matter whether they did or not, they still called colour to her face and she buried her nose deeper in Yukio"s chest. She could feel the question in his fingertips as he caressed her hair.
A quarter of a century spent together. Most of those years happy ones and none of them entirely a bad one. The later ones filled with a calmer joy. The early ones more p.r.o.ne to sudden swings between exhilarating joy, fear and despair.
Like their second year cultural festival she remembered and shuddered.
She hugged Yukio closer and forced her thoughts and memories to their first school festival together. Apart from a few ugly moments it was a bright and joyful memory.
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And the slightly embarra.s.sing one from a rooftop shared between them.