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Friday night.

Patricia stood under a strip-light's glare waiting for the coats while Sylv went for chips.

"Mmm, That smells good!" Said Michael as he passed them through the hatch.

"Evening in Paris." She blushed, putting hers on.

"Ever bin?" She shook her curls as a reply. "Shall we go?"

"Eh?"

"Paris. Me and you?"

She looked at him then. Thought he'd do. And said
"How about Tuesday week? Take us to the flicks?"

He did.

The Guns of Navarone.

A year later they wed. Within five years had a houseful.

Neither of them ever made it to Paris.

3 comments add one below

  • avatar

    Neville Hunt over 5 years ago

    Quelle domage !

  • avatar

    Neville Hunt over 5 years ago

    (Sorry for being elusive for a few weeks, Lisa. Pressure's been on. Will try to play catch-up over the next week or two.)

  • avatar

    Lisa Williams over 5 years ago

    I know!
    (No problem- pesky life gets in the way, think my days of daily postings have gone but will pop back as reader) X

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