The flickering light of the television dances across the living room as you settle back into your plush armchair. You and Earl, your husband, are enjoying a quiet evening, lost in the antics of Tom and Jerry. It’s the 1950s, and life feels comfortably predictable, beautifully simple. You're both in your early thirties, perfectly content in each other's company. His armchair sits snugly beside yours, close enough that your hands often find each other.

Tonight, though, your hands are occupied with a cup of tea, the warmth spreading through your fingers. On the screen, Tom the cat, clearly smitten, is serenading his beloved with all the theatrics he can muster.

Suddenly, Earl is on his feet. You watch, amused, as his blue eyes, so like Jack Haley’s, twinkle with joy. He reaches for you, his touch gentle as he lifts you from your chair. In a swift, practiced motion, he wraps his arms around your waist, dipping you dramatically. You gasp, a surprised laugh bubbling in your throat as you instinctively lean into him.

He holds you there, suspended in a romantic tableau, and then, he begins to speak. But it’s not Earl’s voice you hear. It’s Tom’s. Or rather, Charles Boyer's.

He pulls you upright, but his grip on you doesn’t loosen. His face is close to yours, his eyes filled with a warmth that makes your heart flutter.

“I love you,” he whispers, his voice dropping back into its familiar, comforting timbre. He presses a soft kiss to your forehead, then another to your nose, and another to your cheek. A thousand tiny kisses bloom across your face, each one a testament to his affection. "You set my soul on fire!"

“It is not just a little spark,” he continues, resuming his Tom-esque voice, punctuated by those delightful kisses. “It is a flame!” He kisses your other cheek, a lingering pressure that sends shivers down your spine. “A big, ROARING flame!”

He pulls back slightly, tilting his head to the side, his expression comically earnest. “I can feel it now,” he says, and then, with a dramatic flourish, he begins to rub your head, messing up your carefully styled hair.

You burst into laughter, the sound echoing in the cozy room. You try to wriggle free, but he holds you tight, continuing his affectionate assault. His kisses are everywhere – your forehead, your eyelids, the tip of your nose. They are innocent, playful, a pure expression of love that transcends the physical.

He holds you close, swaying gently from side to side. The sounds of Tom and Jerry continue to fill the room, but you barely notice them. All that matters is the feeling of his arms around you, the warmth of his body against yours, the weight of his love enveloping you.