In cold morning air we walked to the park to fly our kite. It was always cold when we flew it, and the air stung our eyes, and jabbed at us under duffle coats. A slight mist hung over the grass, and our kite lit up the grey skies with blue, green, yellow and red and a secret smile lit up our faces. I tied it to a bench that said, ‘For Arthur and Rose. We barely knew them, but they sat here and they only needed each other.’ And I hoped we would grow old together like them.