The engagement party has wound down. Most of the party-goers have gone home to their babysitters, denture cream, or computers.  The few guests remaining are planning where to go next. A late bar crowd is oozing into the space.

Winona picks up the last of the engagement gifts, trailing ribbons. “That was nice, wasn’t it? Really nice. So glad everybody came.”

“Good mix. Good atmosphere.”  After an evening of blokely validation, Will lets his guard down a bit. He scoops up the extra ribbons and laces his fingers into hers, comfortably. “They say it’s all easy with the right person.”

Winona beams and toes the floor. “Oh, you.”

“Sure you want to wait until September to get a ring? That’s months away.”

As they head for the door, she chatters, “I know. But it won’t seem like long. If we’re house hunting, and then there’s the Film Festival again, and Angela says it really is worth it to wait until the Jewellery Show which will be in town then, and –”

Will opens the door and swears. The cloudy, dull evening has turned into a gale-whipped, sodden night. The pair dump their presents, seal themselves into their coats, and reconvene as a tight unit. They shove the door open again and hurtle into the storm.

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