We are up in the air. I can smell popcorn and cotton candy and her hair. The wind blows and it's in my face, black and silky and i want to run my fingers through it.
We sway gently back and forth. I see lights and hear music. The crowd below, cops and families and hoodlums and couples like us. She is warm against me. She still has a few bits of confetti in her hair from the cascarone. She flinched and stared at me when I hit her with the egg, laughed like a child, delighted, when she saw it was filled with confetti. "Oh, buy me one!" she said, and I did. She pulled my cap off and smashed it over my head and we laughed.
"Let's take a picture," and we lean together, smiling, her hair blowing. I push the button and we examine ourselves.
"Yeah. That's a good one."