Two arms to lean into, trustworthy as boulders near the shoreline. Two arms that lift you up in the air, gracefully, that let you overlook the beauty of the world in three hundred and sixty and more degrees. Two arms to hold you, warm your back and press you in his chest. Two arms to make you feel like a princess, and anyone else you thought you never were. A couple of arms, arms a couple. Two, yet one. Good things come in pairs.