We were driving along University Avenue one night, and as we ascended from beneath an overpass Emily saw downtown Palo Alto, still decorated for Christmas. White twinkling lights cascaded like galaxies, strings wrapped around tree branches, falling toward the sidewalk for the entire length of the glittering downtown strip.
Emily caught her breath a little. “Oh, those are so pretty,” she offered, enthralled by the vision.
I looked ahead at the decorated trees lining the street, then back at Emily.
“No,” I said, “you’re pretty. Those are lights.”
“Okay,” she said after a moment, “that was good.”
Gentlemen, feel free to steal that one..