They were meaning to
go for ages. This resulted in drawn-out arguments, temporary peace treaties.
They hadn’t done it in, what, 7 years, and they were getting dangerously close
to the moment when each time and year could be their last.
Despite the pouring
rain, tedious in its predictability, this time they knew since early morning
that they would go. Their movements were slow and shaky but also nervous and
anxious. Their preparation lasted for several hours and culminated, later in
the evening, in him finding her favourite umbrella and her kissing him on the
cheek.
And then they finally
went out, for the first time in so many years. They looked around, recognizing no
one. In particular, they could not recognise those three American girls sitting
near the piano. But never mind.
They ordered Guinness, like
they always did.
