“How did you know?” he asked.
“You wrote it in a story once,” she smiled.
“I wrote about dragons in a story once,” he said. “You didn’t get me one of those, did you?”
She smiled again. “I could always tell which ones were stories and which were real. You know that.”
“I know,” he squeezed her hand tightly, before letting go and stepping into the room. “I guess I’d just forgotten that I’d ever written this down.”

She followed him through the doorway and sat, curling herself up in one of the leather chairs to watch. She didn’t have to ask if it was right, she could see the look on his face. “Go ahead. Open one.”
The wall in front of him was filled with drawers. They were all shapes and sizes, but the dozens of tiny ones excited him the most. He turned back to her, her meaning just now sinking in. “Wait… you mean there’s something in them?”
“Every one.”
“That must have taken you months!”
“Years.”
He bent down to kiss her. “I love you.”
“I know,” she said. “Now go on, open one.”