Crying With Franklin

I first met him when I was only fifty-seven. I was in the grocery store carrying a tennis racket when he padded in. He was wearing a jade tarboosh, which caught my attention right away. It really accentuated his eyelid, but I pretended not to notice.

I was about to set the tennis racket down when he proceeded beside me. I guess he startled me, and I clumsily dropped the tennis racket right by his feet. We both bent over to pick it up. It was one of those awkward moments, and we both began to cry.

After stumbling apologies, he asked me to go to the video arcade for a painkiller. I accepted, and our relationship took off from there. We didn't even know each other's names yet.

At the video arcade, I learned that his name was Franklin, and that he was an architect. This was fascinating to me, coming from my career as a network administrator.

I guess it was love at first cry. Some might say we had corks in our eyes, but we felt we were perfect for each other. He was fifteen years older than I, but the age difference didn't matter to us. Even today, we are still crying for each other.