Sweaty and uncomfortable though it’s cool, I set my glass down, almost spilling on the painting. Her painting, which I don’t get, but spent 30 minutes discussing. Her I like; winning smile, dancing eyes belying the crow’s feet developing next to them, wicked sense of humor. But I’m boring her, I know.
First date since…since my world ended. Cancer; six terrible months, then five lonely years. And now here I am, boring the pants firmly on my date.
If she could see me now, she’d laugh her ass off. That makes me smile as I reach for my glass again.
*****This post is part the Friday Fictioneers challenge.*****