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Standing here in the frigid October air, icicles surely dangling from his fingertips, Aleksander balks when he sees the pumpkin his wife has chosen after hours of wandering.
“Alina, darling, that one? Really?”
There has to be hundreds, if not thousands, of gourds dotting the fields, orange specks against brown and green for miles. And she’s decided on the ugliest one they’ve come across so far.
He’s baffled, truly.
Wonders what that says of her loving him.
“What?” she asks, pouting. There’s no dirt on the pumpkin, but she brushes a hand over its surface regardless.
Aleksander turns his nose up. “I’ve never seen anything more hideous in my life.”
“What about your mirror?”
She giggles in the silence.
“Careful, Alina,” he then says, voice dipping low. He watches in satisfaction as she shivers, loves how she’s so reactive to him.
“Well, I think it adds to the charm. And anyway, it’s too late to change it now.” She grins, all sunbeams. “Already named him.”
“Him?” Aleksander raises his eyebrows, moves his head as a way of prompting her to elaborate.
“Meet ‘Dorkling’.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Pardon granted,” she teases, skipping away with the pumpkin cuddled to her chest.