Love in the Dark
Copyright© 2026 by MicaMeesha
Chapter 1
Romance Sex Story: Chapter 1 - A blind girl goes out on her own for the first time and meets a man in a coffee shop. They go on a date and get wet in a rainstorm. Back at his house she experiences sex for the first time.
Caution: This Romance Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Consensual Heterosexual Fiction First Oral Sex
I stood at the sink and washed, first my face, then my arms, then my boobs and finally my groin. I felt for the plug and pulled it, listening to the water as it gurgled away. I ran the cold tap and swirled the water around the sink, hopefully washing away any suds. I could only hope.
Back in my bedroom I opened my top drawer and felt amongst the knickers until I found the ones that I wanted. They were white and half-lacy. All my knickers were white; I always stipulated that when I bought them. Colour was pointless, as were patterns. I liked lace; I could feel the lace patterns. I then opened my wardrobe and felt my dresses; I knew which one I wanted.
Found it, just exactly where I had left it, one and a half palms from the right. I stepped into it and put my arms through the straps, trying to line my bra and dress straps together. Mum had said that I ought to buy dresses with bigger straps so that I could hide my underwear. I just flatly said no. Who in their right mind was going to worry about a visible bra strap? No one, and I didn’t care for those not in their right minds.
I was ready. Today I was going to venture into town, go to the precinct, and buy a coffee and pastry at the Hot Java coffee place. By myself, for the first time. This was what some would call scary, me? I called it terrifying. I slowly went down the stairs; now was not the time to fall and went into the kitchen, feeling every switch to make sure that they were off and that the back door was locked.
I opened my front door, grabbed my stick from by the door and stepped out. I locked the door behind me and took the thirty-three paces to the footpath and turned left, my stick sweeping before me, the ball on the end making an almost imperceptible swoosh as it moved over the path. First lamppost. The second lamppost and then eleven paces, and that pole was the bus stop.
I stood facing the road and waited and listened. I heard the cars go past; I heard the vans and a lorry, and then I heard the bus. There was a gush of air as it stopped and opened the doors. My only problem was several buses stopped here, and I needed one that would drop me off in the centre of town.
“Excuse me,” I said to the open door, “does this town go to Bingley High Street?”
“Yes, love,” a voice said. “There is a small step into the bus, about nine inches.”
“Thank you.” I waved my stick, found the edge and stepped in. I found my bus pass from inside the bag and showed it to where I knew the driver to be. “Can you tell me when we are there, please?”
“Yes, love. The second seat on the right is empty. I will call you for your stop.”
I swept my stick and found the second seat, checking with hands that it was indeed empty, and sat down and stared forwards, listening as the bus doors shut and the lurch as the bus moved forward. This was all familiar so far. We stopped a few times, usually four stops into town, but the bus didn’t always stop at all the stops.
“Hello, love,” the driver called. “The next stop is yours. Don’t move until the bus stops; I will give you all the time you need; you don’t need to rush.”
“Thank you,” I answered him. What a great human being.
The bus slowed and then stopped. I stood up, checked I had my bag, and swept my stick as I moved to the front of the bus and to the doors.
“Okay, love, you are there; I am right next to the pavement, it is about nine inches down.”
I used my stick, found the edge and then the depth and stepped down. I turned around and said, “Thank you so much for your help.”
“That’s okay, love; you have a nice day.”
Safely across the crossing, my next challenge was finding the coffee shop. The precinct was opposite the bus stop I had arrived on, so that meant I now had to walk around twenty paces downhill, and then I would be at the precinct; turn right, and the coffee shop was forty paces down and on my left.
I arrived at the coffee shop, and I knew I could get to the counter okay. Finding an empty table and seat could be interesting. I would just have to see how I got on.
“Next please”, a voice called.
“Is that me?” I asked.
“Yes.” The voice replied.
“Thank you. May I have a cappuccino and pastry, please? I don’t mind which pastry, and would you be so kind as to bring it to me at my table? Only I don’t know which table yet.”
“No worries, here is a number flag; just put it on your table, and the server will bring it to you.”
I took my debit card out and held it in the approximate direction of the till. Usually, the till person holds the payment machine, and the customer waves their card. For me it was the other way round. I heard a beep, and so I assumed that the till operator had done the wavy thing.
“Could you tell me how much that was, please?” I asked.
“Yes, that is seven pounds forty-one pence.”
“Thank you.”
That left three hundred and twenty-six pounds and seventeen pence in my bank. I kept a mental note of exactly how much money I had in my bank. I could go to a cashpoint and get cash out, but what I could not do was go to a cashpoint and get a balance. I could not read the printed paper slip that they gave you the balance on. I remembered my balance and mentally took off all my spending.
I headed off to the table area to find an empty one without groping too many innocent people.
“Excuse me,” a voice said to my right. “Please do not be offended. I am not trying to butt in, but may I help you to a table?”
“Golly, yes, thank you,” I said.
“I am going to take your arm, okay, and I will lead you to a table; it is very busy in here at the moment.”
He, the voice was male, or at least it sounded male, took my arm and slowly led me through the tables. I still used my stick to ensure I did not stumble over someone’s bags on the floor.
“Here we are,” he said. “It is busy in here. Do you mind if I share your table?”
I reached out and found the back of a chair and finagled myself onto it. I folded my cane and put it on the table; it can be a real trip hazard for other people. When I was happily seated, I turned to the direction of the voice. “Yes, my goodness, of course you can share the table; after all, I am only a temporary squatter.”
“I think that you are so brave,” he said. “I don’t think I could do it.”
“Oh, do what?” I asked.
“Go anywhere on my own if I couldn’t see.”
“I shall let you into a secret; this is my first time. I even caught the bus, and let me tell you, this is not scary; it is terrifying. I have my Mum on speed dial in case I have a problem. It would be difficult to tell her where I am, though; luckily, she has an app that tracks me.”
“My name is Gilbert, or Gil, and I am delighted to have met you. You are such a brave person, really. I don’t know how you cope; I really don’t.”
At that point there was a clunking, and stuff was put on the table. The server didn’t say anything; he simply put stuff down. I had no idea if it was Gil’s or mine.
“Here, this is yours,” he said, sliding things in front of me.
I felt with my hands a rather hot and very full coffee and a plate with something sticky on it. Excellent. I would let the coffee cool a little. There was also a serviette; I would need that to wipe my hands.
“I’m Florence,” I said, “and it is nice to meet you too. As you have guessed, I am blind. I could see when I was born, but an accident on a horse when I was seven meant I lost my sight. People seem to think that when you can’t see, it is black, but no, for me, it is basically daylight or nighttime, and I can see movement. I just can’t see what is moving, nor do I see colours.”
I paused and took a bite from my pastry, “But if someone mentions a colour I can see it in my mind’s eye, you know, like a blue sky. I have no way of seeing what colour something is, but I do know some of the colours. I guess I am lucky in that way.”
“Wow, but I would think unlucky because you know what you have lost. Someone born blind wouldn’t know what they are missing.”
“Yes, yes, that is true.”
“Can I ask a personal question?” He said, I detected a tremble in his voice.
“Yes, but I may not answer; I reserve that right; it depends on how personal it is.”
“I have heard, or possibly read, that blind people often develop an exceptional other sense, such as taste or smell. Have you?”
“Oh, I can answer that. I did wonder what you were going to ask me,” I laughed, for some obscure reason I thought he was going to ask about boyfriends or something like that.
“Yes, my sense of hearing is very acute; I can hear things, and often I know exactly what direction from me the sound is coming from. Talking to my Mum and Dad, I know that is above average.”
“I envy you that, and at the same time, I regret for you the loss of your sight, if that makes sense.”
“Yes, it does, and thank you, but I don’t envy anyone their sight; I am what I am. Any form of regret will only make me sad or perhaps bitter, and I am not that; that is not me. I am alive.” At that point my phone chirruped. “Excuse me,” I said.
“Hello,” I said into my phone.
“It is only me, love. How have you got on?”
“Oh, hi Mum,” I smiled in the direction where Gil was sat. “I am sitting drinking coffee and trying to eat a very sticky pastry. It might be a Belgian bun, going by what you have got me in the past.”
“No issues?”
“Apart from being terrified? No.”
“I am so proud of you, Flo. Okay, I will let you get on; I am only a phone call away if you need me.”
“Thanks, Mum. I might get a taxi home though.”
“Good idea, bye, baby.” And she was gone.
“Parents never stop worrying, do they?” Gil said.
“No, thank goodness, mine have been brilliant. The accident was no one’s fault; a car driving past the riding school skidded, and the horse I was on bolted and threw me off. I had a concussion, and when I came fully round, I couldn’t see any more. I was lucky; I could have been paralysed. Now that would have been worse. Imagine having to have someone wipe your bum for you.”
“Good God, you have a most peculiar way of looking at the world.” I heard the smile in his voice and then his laugh.
In a strange and new way, I actually felt human. I was doing normal stuff. I had caught the bus into town, and I was drinking coffee in a coffee shop. And here was the kicker: I was talking to a man.
Eventually my coffee was cool enough to drink. It was so full that I was sure that I must have dripped some onto the table, but thankfully not on me. I leant right forward so any spills or drips would be on the table.
“Right, that’s me done,” I said, “and I think I am going to get an Uber back home.”
“Can I ask you something else?”
“Yes, of course, but again, I may not answer.”
“Can I meet you again?”
“Oh. Er, well, I suppose I wasn’t expecting that question. Wow.”
“I am sorry, I have just never met anyone like you, and I really want to meet you again. I want to say, ‘See you again’, but that sounds cruel in my head.”
“Oh gosh.” I handed him my phone. “Put your number in there and make sure you record it as ‘Gilbert’; that way, if I am going out again, I can ring you and let you know.”
“How do you ring me if you can’t read the number?”
“Oh, I shall just say ‘Hey Siri, ring Gilbert’.”
“Of course, stupid me.”
I smiled; he probably did that already; he just didn’t have to think like me because he had eyes.
“Here is your phone back. May I walk with you and wait until your taxi arrives?”
“Why, yes, of course, Gilbert.”
“Gil, please, we are friends now.”
“Yes, Gil, thank you, yes.”
I put my stick back into one long piece and made sure I had my bag, and Gil took my arm and led me out of the store into the precinct. I picked up my phone and spoke.
“Hey Siri, phone Uber.”
There was a moment, and then a ringing tone, and then a man answered.
“I want a taxi, please, from Main Street, Bingley, from by the precinct. I am blind, so I will not see the taxi arrive; please advise your driver. I want to go to 28 Acacia Avenue in Bingley; my name is Florence Brunoise, and I have an account.”
“Yes, madam, the taxi is three minutes away.”
“As easy as that?” Gil said, “But you chose the bus to get here.”
“Well, yes,” I said. “The taxi is too easy; I needed to challenge myself, but I am only brave enough today to challenge myself one way.”
“Still bloody brave. We are here, by the curb,” he said, but I knew that. I had counted the steps.
I heard a car pull up, a car window wind down and a voice call my name.
“That’s me,” I said. I turned to where Gil was standing, I leant to him and felt his face, a handsome face; I leant in and kissed his cheek. “Thank you, Gil; I have enjoyed your company.”
“And I yours, you brave lady. Until the next time. Let me open the car door for you.”
I had been at home a couple of hours, during which time I had two phone calls from Mum. One to see if I got home safely, and then the second to see if I was going to have Sunday dinner with them at the weekend.
The front door knocked; I went and answered it. I knew that Dad had put a sign on it saying that the occupant might take longer than usual to answer and to please be patient. I opened the door.
“Miss Florence Brunoise?”
“Yes,” I said.
“Flowers for you.”
“Oh my,” I said. “Is there a card? If so, can you read it to me?”
“Yes, there is, and the instructions were to read it to you. The card reads, ‘To the bravest person I have ever had the pleasure to meet with admiration, Gil.’
“Oh wow,” I said.
“I was instructed to compile a fragrant bouquet, and we have jasmine, frangipani, roses, gardenia, hedychium, polyanthus, and lavender. They would benefit from putting in a vase sooner rather than later.”
“Thank you,” I said. “They smell lovely, they really do.”
“Give me your hand,” she said, and as I put my hand forward, she put the bouquet into my hand. “Enjoy, and good luck,” she said.
I wondered what she meant by good luck as I shut the door behind her and took the flowers into the kitchen. I had a vase in the cupboard under the sink. I opened the cupboard and soon found the vase.
It took me around five minutes to carefully unpack the flowers in the sink and then arrange them in the vase. I placed them by aroma; I couldn’t do them by looks, and anyway, aroma worked best for me.
“Hey Siri, ring Gilbert,” I said to my phone.
“Hello?” Gil’s voice answered the phone.
“You are silly, and what a wonderful thing to do. Thank you.”
“I thought you deserved a smile in your life.”
“You must thank the florist; she did a fantastic job of selecting the flowers. I have arranged them so that I will get a different scent depending on how I approach my vase.”
“I shall; I shall leave them positive feedback on their website.”
“Good.”
“What time can I pick you up tomorrow?”
“Excuse me?” I was surprised by the question.
“I want to take you out.” He said to me.
“You mean, like a date?”
“Yes, exactly like a date.”
“Oh.” I had never been on a date; I wasn’t entirely sure what to do on a date. “Er, what time would you like to pick me up?”
“I suppose sunrise is too early. I suppose I ought to let you wash and then have breakfast. Sunrise is at 04:47, say 5:15?”
I laughed, “Speed eating my breakfast will give me hiccups.”
“Oh, okay. How about a compromise, say 10:30?”
“Much better, yes, okay, I shall be ready at 10:30.”
“Until then,” he said, and the phone went dead as he killed the call.
“Hey Siri, call Mum.”
“Hello, darling, is everything all right?”
“Yes, no, help.”
“God, what is it?”
“I have been asked on a date, and I don’t know what to do.”
“Oh, oh my goodness. When? What time?”
“Ten thirty tomorrow.”
“I shall be there at nine, and I will help you. You will be ready on time. What is his name?”
“Gilbert, I don’t know his last name; I met him today. He must have heard me give the taxi driver my address, and he sent me flowers, Mum; they just arrived.”
“Okay, now then, do you know what sort of date?”
“No. He just said he would pick me up at sunrise, which we both agreed was too early, and so we agreed on ten thirty; that is all I know.”
“I am so pleased for you. I shall be over in the morning in good time, okay? Right, I am off to tell your father.”
And that was that, and I was supposed to sleep tonight with a date tomorrow? My first-ever date, my gosh, goodness pixies.
I was up at six; I am sure I hadn’t slept a wink, well, perhaps half a wink. I had a pee, cleaned my teeth and stood in the shower and washed every inch of my body. And I do mean every inch; some of the inches got washed twice. I put my dressing gown on and went downstairs and filled the kettle and then boiled it.
Tea or coffee, tea or coffee – that was the question. It had to be coffee. I put the tea bag in a mug and added hot water and milk and only then realised that my coffee tasted wrong. The doorbell rang and then the door opened; it was, of course, Mum. I could tell by the way she walked, and her perfume helped too. I mean, who else would wear Estee Lauder Youth Dew these days? Only my Mum. And me.
“Come on, come on, tell me all about him,” she said, rushing into the kitchen.
“Morning, Mum.”
“Never mind that. Tell me, who is he? Come on, tell me.”
So, I told Mum my story, such as it was and as much as I could remember of it. I may have had a few of his inflections slightly wrong.
“He sounds gorgeous, is he?” Mum asked.
“I don’t know, I didn’t get to touch much of his face, but what I did felt pretty good.”
“Right, come on, let’s get you upstairs and sort your clothes out. What you are going to wear. Oh, and do you want makeup?”
“No, I can’t do makeup myself, so, no, no, thank you, Mum.”
We went upstairs, and I sat on the bed with Mum pulling out my dresses one by one. And then my skirts and tops, and then back to my dresses. Mum knew to put everything back exactly where she got it from. My underwear was pretty much all the same, white bras and white knickers. My dresses, though, were very different; some were strappy, and some were low-cut, not that that was anything when I was an A and a half cup. Most were above the knee; a few were below.
“Right then, Florence, above the knee I think,” Mum said. I could feel the air as she swirled the dress around in front of me, not that I could see.
“Blue, Mum, I think blue.”
“Which one, darling? The dark royal blue with the low-cut front or the cornflower blue with the low back and front?”
“Cornflower, Mum.” I could remember the cornflower blue; I had a dress in cornflower blue that I used to wear on Sundays when I was smaller, before the accident. I knew that colour.
“Right then, come on, get that dressing gown off and let’s get you sorted.”
So, my dressing gown came off, and a clean bra went on. Then Mum sprayed my crotch with antiperspirant, and then I stepped into some knickers – “bikini style”, Mum said – and then the dress.
“Right, let’s have a look at you.” Mum said, so I did a twirl. Mum doesn’t mean anything by it. I couldn’t have a look, but I could feel, and I liked how, when I twirled, the skirt of the dress flared and then slowly settled, nice.
“Shoes,” Mum said.
“Flats, Mum. I don’t want to stumble, and I have no idea where he is taking me, so flats.”
“Stockings?”
“What do you think?” I only have holdups; I do have a suspender belt, and I could use that to clip onto the stockings just in case they started to fall.
“I think yes. Hold your dress up and I’ll put the suspender belt on, and then when you have put your stockings on, I can straighten the seams and clip them on.”
Mum did up the belt, and I sat on the edge of the bed, and Mum passed me a stocking. I pulled up one leg; she then passed me the other.
“Try and straighten them; I’ll tell you if you manage.
I stood up and felt for the seam on my left leg. I then swished the stocking left and right until I thought it straight and then clipped it to the suspender. I then did my right leg. A final check.
“Okay, Mum, I think they are straight.”
“Yes, baby, well done, they are perfect.”
I pressed two fingers on my watch, and it spoke. “The time is 09:55.”
“Come on, Mum, I am as done as I can be; let’s go and sit downstairs. I’ll have a water. Do you want a tea?”
“No, sweetheart, I’ll have water, same as you. You sit in the lounge, and I’ll fetch our drinks.”
I walked downstairs slowly and then went and sat in the lounge. I usually sit on the sofa; I don’t know why, but there we are – that’s where I sit. Mum put a glass of water in my hand, and then I felt her sit by me. I took a sip and then, feeling for my side table, I put my glass down.
“You know about boys?” Mum said.
“What do you mean?”
“Sex, Florence, sex.”
“Oh, yes, the mechanics of it, they taught us that at school. Everyone else was giggling at the video, but of course I couldn’t see what they were laughing at. But yes, I know about a penis and a vagina and all that. And, before you ask, I am protected; I get an injection every 8 weeks.”
“Good grief, Florence, I never knew that. Why?”
“Because I live here now and, well, it was going to happen, is going to happen one day, and I like to be ready. It doesn’t mean I shall; it just means I am ready if I do.”
“Right. Wow. Okay, I shan’t tell your father; you know how he worries.”
“Yes, Mum.”
I pressed my watch. “The time is 10:25.”
“I’ll see you off, and then I will lock up for you. Now have you got everything, purse, wallet, keys, and phone?”
“Yes, Mum, I am ready. Let me just get my cane and I will wait outside.”
I unfurled my cane, gave Mum a kiss, and walked slowly up my drive, counting the thirty-three paces. As I reached the end, a car pulled up, and I heard a voice, his voice.
“Hello, beautiful; wait there, and I will escort you to the car. Hello, Mum,” he called. “I assume that is your Mum waiting by your front door,” he said more quietly.
“Yes, Gil, she worries.”
“Well, from what I have seen, I don’t think she has to worry about you. An amazing daughter you have here, Mum,” he called to Mum. A hand took mine and guided me to the car. He held my stick as I got in and then passed it to me, already folded. I did up my seatbelt and heard my car door close, and then the driver’s door opened, and the car jiggled a little as he got in, and then his door shut and the engine started. I could feel its small vibrations.
“Right then, first things first, wow, you look stunning this morning; I shall be the proud man walking by your side.”
“Oh gosh, er, thank you. Where are we going?”
“We are going for a walk. There will be stimulations along the way, but if they are in any way frightening, I have a plan B.”
“Oh, okay, right, thank you, and this morning I woke up to the most wonderful flowery scents in my house. I cannot thank you enough for that kindness.”
We drove for about fifteen minutes, and then I realised that we were in a car park as there was manoeuvring back and forth. I had tried to keep track of the sense of directions travelled and was really pleased that when I got out of the car, I could feel the heat of the sun exactly where I expected it to be.
He got out of the car, shutting his door behind him, and then my door opened. I felt his hand, and he helped me up, a hand on my head to ensure I didn’t bump it on the door frame.
“Right then,” Gil said, “we are going to walk along the riverbank. I will be between you and the river. On the other side of us, your side, there is a park. There are people with dogs, some youths playing football, and one guy is flying a kite. I hope that this gives you enough sensory stimulation.”
“Oh, what a wonderful idea, yes, thank you.”
“And then we shall go to a pub; the Brown Cow it is called. We will have lunch; what we do after that is your choice. How does that sound as a first date?”
“It sounds fantastic,” I said. First date, gosh golly.
He took my hand, and we walked slowly along a rough path, probably ash or cinder, not a hard path like tarmac. I could hear the water flowing in the river, and I knew it must be quite shallow with an uneven river floor, probably rocky. In my mind’s eye I could see the path, well, a visualisation of it anyway, just as far as I could hear it.
“Is the river shallow and is it rocky?” I asked as I pulled him closer to me and put my arm through his arm; that made it feel more intimate to me.
“Yes, exactly right. Just here the river is quite shallow. A little further up, not far from the pub, there is a weir, and the river is artificially deeper on the other side.
“Was that a fish jumping?” I asked him about a small plop sound that I heard.
“I think it was; they are jumping, but I was looking at my date and not the river, so I missed it. I shall try and pay more attention to our surroundings. I can only apologise.”
“Silly man,” I said and laughed. “Oh, a bird that I don’t know; I can hear it. It is over there,” I said, pointing towards the river.
“My God, okay, that is a kingfisher; you are so lucky. People all along the river hope to see them. I am told that they bring luck. It is perched on a twig and looking for fish to dive in and catch.”
“That is bird number twelve for me.”
“Bird number twelve?”
“Well, I can’t see the birds, so I don’t know what they are, but I have identified the sounds of eleven different birds, twelve now, so I just call them ‘bird one’, ‘bird two’, etcetera. After bird eleven comes the kingfisher. Excellent, now I have a named bird.”
I heard a sort of swoosh noise from the direction of the river. I pointed and asked, “And that, what is that?”
‘Wow, your hearing is really keen. You just pointed at a man fishing; he just cast his rod. I didn’t hear that at all.”
We walked on, and then he said, “There is a bench here facing the river. Shall we sit for a few moments?”
I used my stick and felt the bench and then used my hand to identify which bit was the seating bit. I put my hand down to determine where the seat actually was and how low it was, and then I sat, my stick to my left. Gil sat to my right. “Is the river about three of me away?” I asked.
“Three of me, what does that mean?”
“Well, I can’t see measurements. I do a lot of things by my paces; the road is, for example, thirty-three paces from my front door. But other distances I judge by how many of me lying down there would be. The river sounds about three of me away.”
“That is so clever, and God, that sounded patronising. I apologise, yes, you are right. I would say it is just over five yards away, and that would be you lying down three times; the last you might have her ponytail dangling in the river.”
I felt him move, and then his hand was on my cheek, and then his lips touched mine. Gosh golly pixies, I was being kissed. His hand moved from my cheek and rested just below my left boob. I hadn’t been kissed before, well, not a proper boy-girl kiss. I mean, obviously I had kissed people, just, you know, a peck; this was very different, and golly, it made me tingle.
“I am sorry,” he said into my mouth; his lips moving as he spoke was a very peculiar sensation, “but your mouth is just so kissable.”
I kissed him back; I hoped I was doing it right. I mean, well, how do you know how to kiss when you have never done it? I rested my right hand on his leg and squeezed a little; that seemed like the right thing to do. He pushed his tongue into my mouth, and I gasped; that felt so much nicer than it sounds. His tongue played with mine, and the river babbled three of me away.
His hand moved up a bit, and he was cupping my boob, all one and a half As of it. That felt nice too, almost too nice for a bench in a park by a river. His fingers managed to find my nipple through all of my clothes and squeezed it, and I had a really funny feeling between my legs.
I pulled back. “Gosh,” I said, “I don’t even know what you look like.”
I twisted towards him and ran my hands over his face, feeling his forehead, his nose, his cheeks, and his chin, and then running my fingers over his lips, he felt gorgeous.
“Are you okay?” he asked. “Only I guess I got a bit carried away.”
“I am, as long as you are not going to apologise.”
“Good, and no, I am not, in fact,” he said as his lips brushed mine again. “I am going to do it again.”
I had that feeling again between my legs, a sort of squishiness, and then there was a ‘boing’ sound, and Gil pulled back and laughed. “Bloody kids and their football,” he said. It hadn’t ruined the moment, but it had reminded us of where we were, on a bench in a public park.