‘I mean, honestly Brian,’ Lorna tugged her husband’s sleeve. ‘Are you listening? I’m just saying, do we really need to see everything?’
‘No dear,’ he said. From behind the dark glasses his optometrist had told him to wear he scanned the beach. Beneath the pylons of the pier a couple threaded together—knotted into a single form. Arms and legs and one tan torso out of two. Lips locked. Brian caught barely a glimpse of anything to suggest they weren’t both as naked as babies just delivered. He remembered a balmy dusk with Lorna nearly sixty years before. He thought of how she cooed when——.’
‘Brian! You haven’t heard a word I’ve said.’
‘No dear.’
Old age again, she thought. But she couldn’t quite place the dreamy smile. Never mind.
small stories about love 