We’re spooning on the Moon. Surely a first? Pretty certain Neil and Buzz weren’t this intimate, unless well hidden—a little clandestine dark side dancing?
Jack kisses me hard; we’re laughing. I’ll be shaking moondust out of my undies forever. He offers an eclair. Earlier, his handcrafted, clockwork catapult had propelled us higher and higher…
“What’s up with Mary and Jack? I could hear them at reception—there’s custard all over their faces!”
“It’s her 80th, so he slipped an E in their supper, poured sand in her knickers, and said he was taking her to the moon…the old romantic.”