As he opened the trunk of the battered old mustard yellow Merc, you could feel the heat escape from the nineteen candles that had been blazing all the way from their apartment in town to this rocky outcrop they both loved.
“Happy birthday, babe” he drawled, a half smile and pleased eyes playing over her face as he lifted the cake from its precarious hiding place and held it before her.
Her smile was what he loved about her most, but there hadn’t been many to go around these last few weeks. The cake coming out of the car boot like a magician’s trick broke through Betty’s depression. She moved closer and kissed him full on the lips, knocking the candles from half the cake and burning her skin. No flicker of pain, just an intensity in her kiss that spoke of a deep longing.