This is truly habit forming. Here’s my weekly installment for Friday Fictioneers. Thank you Madison Woods!
Golden arches and a drive-through replaced the baroque beacon on the hill. The French restaurant where we often rendezvoused is gone.
At our special table we shared crème brulée, class notes and anecdotes.
Our careers left no room for marriage. He went his way and I went mine.
Two years later the embossed invitation came. Birth announcements and commencement notices followed me around the world.
When I read his wife’s obituary I wept.
Thirty summers passed. I reminisce in McDonald’s parking lot. Someone taps my windshield.
Ink-black hair turned bone-white, Bordeaux in hand, he grins. “You saved our table.”