David and Marcia’ retirement was never active. On summer evenings they sat outside on folding chairs, greeting neighbours and passing strangers alike. They measured time not in hours and minutes, but in “gin-and-tonic inches”, glasses refilling miraculously without either of them ever moving.
Marcia smoked like a chimney and used her low gravelly voice to boss David about and make grand pronouncements about the declining state of the country. Neighbours simply smiled benignly.
But David loved her, and when Marcia’s heart suddenly gave out, he faded away within months. They’re together now, I’m sure; their ashes are, at any rate.
Marcia smoked like a chimney and used her low gravelly voice to boss David about and make grand pronouncements about the declining state of the country. Neighbours simply smiled benignly.
But David loved her, and when Marcia’s heart suddenly gave out, he faded away within months. They’re together now, I’m sure; their ashes are, at any rate.
