Until Death Do Us Part

“It’s nice to get out, ” he says.

“It is, isn’t it?” she responds.

They eat a few crumbles of muffin and simultaneously sip some coffee.

“I’d never do this without you,” he says.

“Why would you deprive yourself if I couldn’t go for some reason?” she asks.

He pauses to take another sip, puts down the cup, looks her in the eye and answers with a smile, “Because it’s been fifty-nine years and two months.”