“We have coffee here” she said, “It’s a waste to go out.” she said, when her husband suggested they go have coffee.

“Come on” he persisted, trying to overcome the inertia, feeling restless as he tugged with his eyes.

“We’ll walk” he said as he locked the door.

At the end of the driveway, their hands automatically sought each other, naturally fitting together after all the years, all the walks, all the handholding.

He smiled, breathed deep and it was a good day. You could not tell from the weather but his heart felt lighter with her hand in his.

It was a short walk to the coffee shop. They talked about little things, and it was good to chat about their stuff. The coffee shop was practically empty. Youngish coffee barista’s encouraged them to buy food but they stuck to their coffee, his dark, and hers something latte made…