*On a cold, chilly evening both of them were sitting on a bench, in a park, talking nonchalantly*
She - I'm dying in this cold, look at my hands, they've turned white. They're so numb, I can't feel a thing.
He - Okay, let me grab them
*He clasps her hands in his palms*
She - Your hands are warm, this feels good. How did you manage to keep them warm when it is so cold.
He - Well I never took them out of my jacket. I knew you would be cold so I kept my hands warm for you
She - Do you know what warm hands signify? They signify loyalty.
He - I didn't know that. Now you're making things up.
She - No, I'm not, it's not my fault that you don't read many books.
He - All right.
*A year later as he sat on the same bench, alone, reminiscing the moment, He remembered how right she was. Warm hands did signify loyalty, and her hands were cold, so cold*