“All the better,” he agrees. He sounds a little fatuous, as lovers often do, but he doesn’t care; it’s all right if love makes a fool of him, if the love itself is as right as this.

Her mouth is just there, a small space from his, and swollen from kissing. He falls to kissing her again, his arms about her. This place is nearly private; they could lie in the sand or stand in the hole, and —

Eventually, he hears an insistent rustling in the box, and eventually, it distracts him enough to break the kiss and glance back at it.

“Did you hear that?”