After so many years married, they still walk hand in hand. Their fingers naturally reaching out, intertwining into a perfect fit.
A playful lift of his brow, a secret passed between them, and her cheeks blush school-girl pink. Calling out their front door as he leaves for work in the mornings, she favorably critiques his callipygian physique. Their two grown children, and the neighbors, are often embarrassed by their adolescent antics.
His smile, his laughter, the rumble of his voice, warms her soul. His familiar arms wrap her in a tender blanket of quiet and comfort. At night, she curls around his warm body, two pieces of the same puzzle.
They are growing old together and there is no other place she wants to be.
On simple days when they talk of simple things, she knows they have no words left unspoken.
The Trifextra prompt this weekend was to write a love scene in no fewer than 33 and no more than 333 words. The challenge part was that none of those words, or their derivatives, could come from this list:
*This may be familiar to a few readers. This piece was reworked from a shorter essay originally published two years ago.
Thin spiral notebook 
Lovely. We still hold hands, too. 🙂
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