It was a grey day, grey like the wool of her coat. Small things make me trusting: red hair, humming along to an Al Green song. Time steps back with a smile as we wander woods under bare branches, squishing through mud for the experience of it; a carpet of leaves for our feet to kick. Or stretch out on them, staring up at the sky with shining brown eyes, as I marvel at small things and the luck of a beautiful, grey day. Small things -- a coffee cup empty and warm, a comfy chair empty and warm, hearts full, and warm.