Marie and Alexander sat up on a terrace with lots of little tables, lots of little chairs, and lots of little cups of tea. The cafe was positioned to overlook the “quiet splendour of the Rockery at the Royal Botanical Gardens”. The Rockery was a large circular valley with an enormous willow tree at the bottom, the top of which one could see from the cafe. Swarms of people and their pictures lent a paradoxically plebeian feel to the “Royal” valley. The cafe looked ostensibly like a verandah from which a duke or earl might have surveyed his grounds, but it served the purpose of a feeding and excretion station. Nevertheless, the day was warm, and Marie looked cute in her walking shorts and sleeveless summer blouse. Every so often Alexander caught a glimpse of her white bra through the side of it. He felt quite spirited that he was noticing her again. They exchanged pleased glances and talked soberly, not like lovers. When their tea was done, Alexander looked at Marie’s watch. “God, it’s nearly five o’clock. I guess we should get back.” She agreed. They walked out of the garden and through the tunnel that provided underground circumvention of an eight lane expressway which dodged the valley. At the car park, they somehow differentiated their own car from the not-their-own cars, and went to it. Getting in, he smiled at her. She smiled back. He had smiled at her in the tunnel, too, and on the path, and while they were looking for their car. Every time they made eye contact, he smiled, and wondered how long they would be stuck gawking at each other if they couldn’t smile. During the drive home he thought about the day, was happy but disappointed. They had missed the daffodils and the irises by over two weeks.