Photos and text by: Corey Amaro
Last night, the first gentle spring evening of the year, I sat on the park bench with Annie. We chatted about this, that and the other… the other being my American friend and her very new French boyfriend.
Annie grabbed my hand and asked, "How is the match-making-romance going?"
"Oh, today they were suppose to have brunch- but he over slept, and didn't call until late this afternoon."
"What was he thinking? Men they are all alike, aren't they?" She shook her head as if disagreeing.
"Yeah, she was pretty sad at first. Though he is there now apologizing."
"Oh, well that is good. Did he bring flowers or something?"
"No. He didn't. Gee Annie, I thought the same thing! We think alike you and me!"
"Yeah… too bad men don't. Men they never change from generation to generation, the same old story isn't it?" Annie continued without waiting for me to answer, "Is he staying at her
house tonight?"
I raised my eyebrows wondering where that came from. I remained silent for one second too long and before I could say anything Annie answered, "Hey, they are both older, both alone…. you know!" Then she tapped my arm as if I were a child, "I am not too old that I don't remember a thing or two about sex, you know."
"I know. But I don't think she wants that just yet." I winked without meaning too.
She shrugged, as if to say, "I don't believe you," then under her breath she added with a sly smile, "I beat he wishes he brought flowers!"
"Annie!" Then I shook my head back, laughed out loud, and thought to myself, "Flower bed."
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Annie turned ninety-one the other day!
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