People in glass houses.
She repeated the motion over and over throughout the length of all three cycles of the light that we were stuck there. The enormous, crudely balanced plastic-wrapped grocery store bouquet lifted to her face, her stunned delight showing for just an instant before she again and again sniffed the flowers, then looked over at him. He sat behind the wheel, a grin on his face, looking slightly embarrassed at how much this smallest of gestures meant to her. She was overwhelmed, that was easy. What he really seemed to be realizing at that precise moment in time was that he had, possibly for the first time in his life, actually swept a woman clean off of her feet. He was, that day, her knight in shining armour, charging up to take her away to his castle.
He reached for her hand, hesitatingly, suddenly shy and unsure of himself. She didn’t notice at first. When his fingers finally found the courage to gently curl around her own, though, she turned to him and beamed with such joy and happiness that my sour little heart grew two sizes two small, and I turned my head away pretending like it didn’t hurt to see someone so incredibly happy in a way I had never been.