I Think She Likes Me
Dad gives me an eager nudge. "See that lady over there?" He asks, pointing at her. "I think she likes me." He flashes his dentures.
"You should give her a present," I suggest.
"Like what?" he asks.
"Like this," I answer, handing him a little box.
He gets up, hobbles across the room and offers it to her. She opens it. There's a gold necklace inside.
I walk up to them and smile. "Happy 50th, you two."
Dad looks at me, then at Mom. He doesn't understand why we're crying.
17 July 2016