For Tales

“They’re purple,” Dawn stated.

“They are.”

“They’re meant to be red.”

“Are they?”

“Everyone knows that.”

The jingling bell cut off any further criticism.

“I got you ham,” Anya began, removing her coat as she turned away from the door. “They were out of chicken. I think we need to— Roses!” Her eyes drifted closed as she bent to breathe in the delicate scent. “They’re purple,” she continued dreamily.

“They are.” Giles smiled as he took her coat.

“Do you really think I’m—”

“Enchanting?” he finished. “Do you really need to ask?” he replied as she melted into his arms.