He was a tall man, a little portly around the middle. His eyes were deep blue marbles that shone bright, not cold or hard. He had a nicely shaped head, the hair gathering gray near the temples. His face had the ruddy sheen of a healthy man, warm-blooded and passionate. When he laughed, his eyes crinkled shut, mouth open. His face was transformed, its contained expression morphing into one of simple joy, open and uninhibited.
Then he started, “My husband says…”
And my heart plain burst with the unexpected sweetness of it all.
(How wonderful it is to hear “my husband” and “my wife” in all kinds of hitherto unknown contexts.)