I hear her footsteps approaching. “Luna, darling?”

“Yes, good morning.” She comes over and gives me a peck on the cheek. “How’re you?”
“Rested, and you?” I smile at her.
“Very rested,” She giggles. “I’m going to make breakfast; do you want anything?”
“No, thank you, love.” I turn my attention to my book.
“How do they do it?” She asks me a few minutes later.
“Who?” I look up from my book. She’s admiring the arrangement of flowers I got her for our anniversary.
“The flowers, how’re they so beautiful?” She holds one’s stem and sniffs deeply.
“I don’t know…” I say, pondering with her.
“But the prettiest ones always die. It’s not fair.” She picks up a fallen petal.
“Maybe the prettiest ones want to die, and that’s why they’re so pretty…?”
She looks at me, “That makes sense…” She turns away. “I guess we’re like flowers that way.”
I give her a sad smile, “I guess we are.”
“The prettiest people are always the saddest… but they’re pretty so we think they’re the happiest they can be. When really, they’re probably the some of the saddest people I know…” She catches a glimpse at me.
“Luna, don’t get upset. I’m happy.”
She crosses over to me. “For how long?” she sits on my lap, knitting her fingers together behind my neck.
I grin, holding the small of her back. “For as long as you’re right here with me.”