Hand in Hand.

He hobbled on his walking stick. She took his other free hand in her arms. They both waddled in the morning light, holding hands, pushing eighty years behind. He walked in silence and she twittered away. Over time their faces had sagged and swelled in the same places, making them look so much alike. It’s the cutest sight to see on a Thursday morning.

I don’t know if that is love that they both held in their hands. Something kept them together, be it her constant chatter or his silence to make room for them.

I guess forever looks something like a softly leathered hand on a Thursday morning.