We liked the same sunsets, and the same make of car, and the same kind of ice-cream; and we looked into each other's eyes and _thought_ we knew the other--whereas we were really only seeing the mirrored reflection of ourselves.
And so we were married.
It was everything that was blissful and delightful, of course, at first.

We were still eating the ice-cream and admiring the sunsets.

I had forgotten that there were things other than sunsets and ice-cream, I suspect.

I was not twenty-one, remember, and my feet fairly ached to dance.

The whole world was a show.