at the weekend, there was the first warmth of the year hanging hazily in the air with birdsong. it invited flinging open the east-facing doors and windows at breakfast; bare skin soaked up the scent of sunlight. it invited lounging at a bustling patio downtown, a flute of prosecco for her, a double-fermented belgian for him, sunglasses, conversation and laughter. it invited sitting on a thin blanket at the edge of the ocean as the light fell out of the sky, with a bottle of wine brought home from their holiday in provence and with the crashing tide cooling the air.