There was a canvas sunset. The speakers played sounds of streetcars and people talking and construction. We stood on a stage in front of a wooden building painted to look like red bricks. The lights were bright and hot and I couldn’t ignore them that day. I was with my favorite lady and she wore a flimsy yellow sundress with pink and orange floral print. It hugged her body and collapsed into her curvature. That dress had been made for that day. I looked up at the ceiling and asked: “It sure is a beautiful day love, wouldn’t you say?”
With the wind from the fans disturbing her obsidian curls she looked over her shoulder and said softly. “Oh, yes dear, quite.”
