The smiling eyes of his great-grandson renewed his strength. He happily choked out “I do” to the man of his dreams.
She fed him, read to him, helped him undress, caressed him. The next day he called her at work: the handcuffs were still locked.
“Want pancakes for breakfast?” “I want a new life.” But they don’t find one of those at Wal-mart and settle for a jumbo box of cereal.
After thirty years of marriage, your “yes” sounds fresh every night. But I don’t even have to ask. “Grateful” is not a word. It’s breathing.
He groaned in pain. His knuckles turned white as the scent of uncertainty filled the little room. “Chili,” said he, “you betrayed me.”
He repeated his name for her, but she simply stared ahead, motionless. He watched their past disintegrate behind her eyes.