When the priest placed her hand in her new husband’s she knew that this marriage was no more to his liking than her own.
He took her arm gently, and led her from the place. They walked in silence to the top of the sunlit winter pasture. He bent and took off his shoes, before kneeling to do the same for her.
“Shall we run?”
She picked up her skirts, and as her feet crushed the soft grass she felt a jolt of something so piercing and sweet that her heart leapt.
“There is joy in small things,” he laughed.