Rosemary By Merle R. Stone

"Have you the time?" she asked. As always when our eyes meet, my thoughts turn to tender things. Cuddling naked by the fireplace, chilled chablis in hand. Her charming giggle rising above the crackle of the flames. Twenty-five years married and still we idle like teens, content in each others' embrace. The children grown, grandchildren on the way. How long we have loved and cherished each other. All of this plays in my mind when our eyes meet. "Four thirty-three," I say as we pass in the hallway at work. Will I ever muster the nerve to ask her out?

© Merle R. Stone 2007

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