Is it not grace to lie in an embrace with a loved one after a hard day?

John always read something before going to bed, saying that it helped him relax his mind. It didn't matter that there was some kind of bloody detective clutched in his hand right now.

Your head was resting on his shoulder, and his free hand was stroking your hair.

The only light source was the bedside lamp on his side, emitting a soft glow.

"I'm going to ask you a very serious question," you said, holding out your palm to his face, pulling the glasses off his nose, to which he made an indistinct sound.

John looked at the alarm clock on the bedside table.

"It's twelve o'clock at night. It's time for serious questions," he chuckled, putting the book aside and turning all his attention to you, "Ask."

"Okay," you nodded, taking a sitting position in bed, giving him a narrowed look: "Would you love me if I were a stone?"

The man's eyebrows shot up like two jackdaws before he laughed hoarsely.

"Well, to be honest," he began, shaking his head, "I expected anything but this."