Swallowing With Fran

I first met her when I was only fifty-seven. I was in the burger joint carrying a toothbrush when she capered in. She was wearing a chartreuse business suit, which caught my attention right away. It really accentuated her Achilles tendon, but I pretended not to notice.

I was about to set the toothbrush down when she pranced beside me. I guess she startled me, and I clumsily dropped the toothbrush right by her feet. We both bent over to pick it up. It was one of those awkward moments, and we both began to swallow.

After stumbling apologies, I asked her to go to the shoe store for a Bloody Mary. She accepted, and our relationship took off from there. We didn't even know each other's names yet.

At the shoe store, I learned that her name was Fran, and that she was a poet. This was fascinating to me, coming from my career as a massage therapist.

I guess it was love at first swallow. Some might say we had pots in our eyes, but we felt we were perfect for each other. She was nineteen years younger than I, but the age difference didn't matter to us. Even today, we are still swallowing for each other.