I handed her a napkin from the dispenser. "Please, Angela." I said feeling sorry for her. "I'm not mad, really, it's just that....well I......" "...hat's okay," she said smiling sweetly at me as she wiped the moisture from her eyes. "You don't have to explain. It's me....I....I....I just...I mean I....." We both laughed then at the futility of our attempted conversation. After we both calmed down and our food had arrived I took a bite of my burger and looked at her. "Why, Angela. . His hair was combed neatly and the gray at his temples made him look even more distinguished than ever. He was leaning against the door frame and sipped a cup of coffee. In his other hand he held another cup, steam swirled upward and it smelled heavenly. ?I thought you might be waking up about now, thought you could use this.? He said as he crossed the room and handed me the cup. Seeing the cup made me smile. It was our own little private ritual, he had his mug that read ?Old Fart? on the side. More

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