Wincing With Mildred

I first met her when I was only thirty-eight. I was in the pastry shop carrying a cookie when she capered in. She was wearing a silver bedsheet, which caught my attention right away. It really accentuated her rib, but I pretended not to notice.

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

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

At the café, I learned that her name was Mildred, and that she was a doorman. This was fascinating to me, coming from my career as a machinist.

I guess it was love at first wince. Some might say we had baseballs 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 wincing for each other.