He lets her believe he's asleep - enjoying an illuminating moment of serenity that he usually associates with post-coital hush.

She doesn't notice when he turns supine.

Or so he thinks.

“Ready to go back?”

She sits up, looking at him; clearly expecting the answer to be yes.

Instead he twirls his index finger around an auburn lock.

“That one looks like a wisp of your hair” he observes with a gentle tug.

She sidles up to him as she registers the meaning behind his words, and smiles when he reaches for her hand.

“Boat.”

She laughs.

“Of course it is.”

Author's note:

Greetings from South Carolina – where we are in the excellent company of 4sweetdreams and her family.

I had the thought for this as we were flying over cloud cover yesterday afternoon. Felt I should just go ahead and celebrate a few more likely happy moments in the Jibbs past. I anticipate a companion drabble to this sometime over the next few days - with stargazing as its theme.