Weeping With Anna

I first met her when I was only fifty-three. I was in the opera house carrying a paper airplane when she flounced in. She was wearing a purple toga, which caught my attention right away. It really accentuated her spleen, but I pretended not to notice.

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

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

At the clothing store, I learned that her name was Anna, and that she was an upholsterer. This was fascinating to me, coming from my career as a test pilot.

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