Puffing With Charlotte

I first met her when I was only fifty-nine. I was in the gym carrying a cupcake when she ambled in. She was wearing a sparkly pair of boxing gloves, which caught my attention right away. It really accentuated her artery, but I pretended not to notice.

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

After stumbling apologies, I asked her to go to the hair salon for a cup of cocoa. She accepted, and our relationship took off from there. We didn't even know each other's names yet.

At the hair salon, I learned that her name was Charlotte, and that she was a mason. This was fascinating to me, coming from my career as a jailer.

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