That’s all I can remember.
Showing up fifteen minutes early to make sure I didn’t miss you.
Standing in front of La Forchetta alone. Checking my watch. Making small talk with the valets.
Their blue vests, red ties, white shirts, and neatly creased black slacks.
Looking for and seeing a dozen red dresses. You said you’d wear a red dress.
The dress because I could only imagine how great you would look in red. Continue reading