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.”
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