Typing With Adam

I first met him when I was only sixty-two. I was in the opera house carrying an air compressor when he slid in. He was wearing an aquamarine bikini, which caught my attention right away. It really accentuated his cheek, but I pretended not to notice.

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

After stumbling apologies, he asked me to go to the hair salon for a gimlet. I 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 his name was Adam, and that he was a tutor. This was fascinating to me, coming from my career as a preacher.

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