He looked up under his thick, dark lashes. ‘Why are you staring?’

‘I want to know how it feels.’ I told him, warily studying his expression. He was tense, edgy. ‘I want to know exactly how it feels to be -’ the words caught on my lips for a moment as if they weren’t sure whether to come out. ‘Like you.’ I said finally.

He waited for a moment before saying anything, gathering his words together carefully so that the answer he gave would be the exactly right one. He’d waited for this moment for so long; I knew he’d want it to be absolutely perfect. Without warning, he grabbed me by the hand and led the through the open French doors and out onto the quiet, cobbled street. We walked in silence as he led me toward the crumbly, surrounding walls of the ancient market square. I felt his hand stiffen and squeeze my own as the noise from the other side of the wall grew louder as we approached; carefree chatter and laughter that lingered in the air – such lovely inviting sounds. I felt a twinge of sadness, which I quickly suppressed. I didn’t want to make this any harder for him than it had to be.

 ‘Where are we going?’ I asked, tentatively. He glanced sideways at me and smiled, though it wasn’t his usual broad smile – it was tight and forced. I took it anyway and smiled back gratefully. Happy that he was willing to do all of this – and for me – that had to mean something, didn’t it?

‘I want to show you something.’ 

He gripped my hand with more force as the bricked archway we walked through opened out onto the square; I heard him take a breath. I blinked as my eyes adjusted to the glare from the midday sun.

My eyes roamed the square as we continued walking towards its centre; brightly coloured stalls lined all four walls where families weaved in and out of one another, all hunting for a bargain among the delicate, handmade jewels and beautiful, intricately-patterned fabrics that adorned each stall. Faint music trickled from the far side of the market place where a band was setting up their equipment. The sun seemed to be directly above the market square; as though it was shining just for us today, just for this little town. The scent on the breeze was a funny fusion of incense, spices and perfumed wax, but still warm and alluring in its haze. We marched on to the middle of the square where stood a huge, circular fountain of ornate design; pretty frills of water spilled out of its peak and into the greeny-blue pool of its base. The water sparkled in the sunlight. Several onlookers had positioned themselves around the fountain and were eating and talking animatedly to one another, perched on the stone ledge as they waited for the band to start playing. We stopped abruptly as we found an empty area and he gestured for me to take a seat. As I did he sat down beside me, closer than usual. I glanced around; unable to stop myself absorbing more of the beautiful scene.