The newspaper rattled as he glanced across the table at her. It was their weekend habit – sharing breakfast, but the Saturday crossword had cut out conversation more than once.

Harold looked up again. He caught the attention of the waitress and gestured toward his cup. Leaning back into the booth he stirred enough cream to drown a hog (according to Babs) into the thick, black brew.

His buddies teased him about the odd breakfast routine, but Harold knew Babs still cared about him. She occasionally read bits of the news to him and they would laugh together at their favorite comic strips.

The crossword puzzles didn’t take long to finish and Babs remarked, as she always did. “I should time myself someday.”

Affection comes in all shapes and sizes as well as interests and joys. At 16 they chattered like magpies, wondering at the “older” people around them who sat silently over their meals. “We will not be like that when we’re old,” they had promised themselves more than once.

Then the babies came and talk was centered on their needs and bills and babysitters and cars and the detritus of struggling young marrieds. Date nights were hard to come by, but always appreciated.

Now, after 43 years of Saturday puzzles, Harold had to admit he was content. He reached across the table, took the crossword and noted how Babs’ handwriting was getting shakier and the words were mostly gibberish with her advancing dementia. “You’ve gotten them all right again, Babs. Ready to go shopping now?”

Harold helped her into her coat, nodded to the waitress, and smiled at the young couple in the next booth. He wished for them the same longevity he and Babs had shared.
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Ahhh, those crafty editors at Trifecta challenged us to write a love story without using ONE of 33 forbidden words. I chose to write a different sort of love story, one that has weathered time. Let me know if I snuck one of the forbidden words in there.
🙂