I was sitting outside at McDonald’s, eating fries, when my wife walked up. She looked stunning in her green summer dress, her red hair tied in pigtails. No matter what she wears, she completely disarms me.

She sat sideways next to me, smiling mischievously. Some soft serve began to melt down her waffle cone. She caught the drip with her tongue, letting out a soft moan. Then she leaned across the table, her voice dropping so low I could barely hear it over the traffic.

“Meet me at the park and hurry.”