by John Sheirer
“This one.” He pointed to the 24-foot model.
“Mmmm,” his wife responded.
“I can fix the siding on the back of the house or clean the upper gutters without hiring someone.”
She touched the cold aluminum. Does he know we’re sixty-five?
“Let’s check online later,” she suggested, hoping he’d forget. “Maybe find a better price.”
“Good idea,” he said. “Let’s find those garden gloves you wanted.”
That night in bed, she nestled into him, spooning as they had since their first night together.
“So strong,” she whispered, squeezing his arm as she always did.
Some nights, he still believed her.
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