By Jim Bonnor
They meander home from the pub, alongside the dry ditch, hand in hand as they have for more than twenty years. The porter stout sky is so clear, a head of stars effervescing across it.
They stop and crane their necks.
“The stars remind me of you,” he slurs.
“Really?” she hiccups. “Must be my eyes.”
“No.”
“Oh? … my sparkling smile, then?”
“Nope.”
“Mmm … perhaps my hair, gossamer grey, like the Milky Way?”
“Nuhuh.”
“What then?”
“It’s the countless bloody trivial errands you make me run.”
He sees stars from the bottom of the ditch and grins at her celestial laughter.
That made me chuckle at the end of it. Cute and true.
Well done, made me chuckle too!
Stellar insight.
How sweet! Absolutely Lovely!