Already Missing Her
For years now, over my morning coffee, I’ve watched them coming down the alley across the street, walking slowly, holding hands. They’re old, but not that old –- maybe in their early 70s.
Today was different. He appeared first and she was ten paces behind, hugging the hedge for security on the ice and snow.
His head was down, his hands jammed in his coat pockets, already missing her.
