“You know,” he said, pointing up at the tiny sliver of a moon. “Just say the word, and I’ll throw a lasso around it and pull it down for you, if I could.”

            “Yeah, right,” she said, scoffing. “George Bailey said he would, too, and look at what poor Mary had to contend with. A broken-down house, endless near-poverty, a brood of kids, one of whom was sick all the time, and a husband who hallucinated a life without his wife and family, when he wasn’t trying to kill himself. No thanks.”

            “It was a lovely painting, though, wasn’t it?”

            She stopped and turned to look at him?

            “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

            “Part of the Primitive School?”

            She shook her head and began walking again.

            “So, maybe I can’t actually lasso the moon for you, but you know I’m over the moon about you, don’t you?”

            “Uh, yeah. You’ve made that abundantly clear. Now, would you just let me be alone? Please?”

            “Tell me what you want. Anything. Ask for the moon.”

            “I think I just did,” she said.

            “No, really. Anything.”

            “A new life.”

            “Can’t do that. But, I’ll do just about anything else for you. I promise you the moon.”

            “Interesting,” she said, slowing down as they approached a bench. “You can’t lasso it, but you can promise it to me. How you going to pull that one off?”

            “I’ll give you the moon on a stick,” he said, sitting down on the bench next to her, then scooting closer. “Whatever your heart desires, I’ll get it for you.”

            “Couldn’t lasso the moon.”

            “Technical issues. But you must know by now how much I love you to the moon and back.”

            “Back to the moon stuff again, huh?”

            She stood up, mostly to keep from falling off the bench as he inched closer and closer, and began walking, as he double-stepped to catch up to her, gently grabbing her hand and lacing his fingers into hers.

            “Look,” he said, sounding serious. “I know I’m casting beyond the moon, but won’t you let me love you? Even for just tonight? You’re beautiful and charming and insanely intelligent and kind to small animals and old people, and damn you smell good.”

            She liked being told she smelled nice, and she walked a little lighter. And, frankly, she was enjoying the attention.

            “Really,” he said. “Am I going too far? Reaching for the moon?”

            “Barking at the moon, is more like it.”

            She tried not to laugh.

            “No hope?” he said, letting go of her hand and stopping to face her, to look into her eyes. “Even though I think you hung the moon? Or is it green cheese, as they say? A waxing moon?”

            “No,” she said, reaching out and cupping his cheek in her hand. “And I appreciate it. I needed a bit of over-the-top. Especially tonight.”

            “Once in a blue moon, I can do the right thing, huh?”

            “More than once in a blue moon.”