The sun sparkles off her skin as she spins on the spot. Her dress lifts enough for him to see a little higher up her leg then she'd ever consciously intend, but that's not why he's staring. He's staring at her smile, at how her eyes light up when she's happy, how her messy excuse for a hairstyle suddenly looks perfect the minute she starts moving. He's staring at her skin, how in the right lighting it looks flawless and pale as cream instead of speckled and unevenly coloured. But most of all he's staring at her and realising she's much more perfect then he ever imagined and how she's becoming much more important to him than he ever intended.
She spins around and she's four years old again in her favourite dress pretending to be a princess. This new dress twelve years from the memory spins just as well and she enjoys the feeling of freedom that comes from turning on the spot and laughing. She almost forgets that he is with her while lost in memories but as her head whips past him she notices something. He's staring at her like she's grown a second head. She makes another rotation and now he's smiling with a vacant look to his eyes as if he's imagining possible futures.
She stops abruptly and stumbles. His arm reaches out for her and steadies her. She looks up at him and his worried eyes. She shouldn't be so clumsy. She mutters thanks and steps away. She knows what he was thinking about and she's surprised to find she was thinking the exact, same, thing.