Hands interlocked, he lifted hers to his lips, kissing the back of her hand. She smiled, pushing her cheek deeper into his chest, brushing hair from her eyes.
The gesture had been done a plethora of times with the same results. Every woman was reading from the same script written by a man who knew how to manipulate their emotions like marionettes. The giggle, flutter of eyelids, breath caught in throat from his touch- it was all expected.
These men play the part because they think if they do it enough the butterflies associated with the scene would begin to take flight in their stomachs. When it doesn’t, like birds in winter, home becomes the next nest. Just playing their part written in the script given to them like so many of us think we’re supposed to do.