We are at a little dinner place out One Sixteen near the river.
We’ve gotten to a lull in the conversation and neither of us
is willing to broach the subject we have been talking around all
evening. Us. Where are we going? It’s not working out. Something
needs to change.
I’m clearing my throat and Marci is looking around hopelessly
when the waiter brings dessert and we dig in. It’s a caramel
sundae with nuts, whipped cream, and something like ricotta with
a hint of raspberry.
We look at each other, Marci licking cream off her lip, and we’re
both almost tearing with pleasure as she says, “God, I love
you,” and goes another spoonful.
© Jim Misner 2009