Only one person on Earth would remember that.
Walter.
I stared at that message for a full hour before I replied.
Only one person on Earth would remember that.
We started talking slowly at first.
Just memories. Small check-ins.
But something about it felt safe and familiar. Like putting on an old sweater that still fit perfectly.
Walter told me his wife had died six years ago.
He’d moved back to town just the year before, after retiring.
He’d been alone since then. No children. Just him and his memories.
His wife had died six years ago.I told him about Robert. About how much I’d loved him. And how much it still hurt.
“I didn’t think I’d ever feel anything again,” I admitted one day.
“Me neither.”
Before I knew it, we were having coffee every week. Then dinner. Then laughing again in a way I hadn’t in years.
My daughter noticed the change.
“Mom, you seem happier.”
“Do I?”
“Yeah. What’s going on?”
My daughter noticed the change.
I smiled. “I reconnected with an old friend.”
She raised an eyebrow.
“Just a friend?”
I blushed.
Six months later, Walter looked at me across the table at our favorite diner.
“Debbie, I don’t want to waste any more time.”
My heart skipped.“What do you mean?”
“Debbie, I don’t want to waste any more time.”
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small velvet box.
“I know we’re not kids anymore. I know we’ve both lived whole lives without each other. But I also know that I don’t want to spend whatever time I have left without you.”
He opened the box.
