text: The old man sat on the bench by the doorway, slowly tying the laces of his boots as he prepared for the trek to the grocery store. “And don’t get the Honey-beam bread, you know it goes stale too fast.” His wife chimed in. “Yes, dear.” “And don’t take too long! You’re always getting distracted by your daydreams. I don’t know what goes through your head that holds you up so long, but I haven’t got the time today. I need the eggs for the cake that has to be done by three. That means...” “Yes, dear.” The old man pulled on his weathered cap and slipped out the front door, being sure to close it tightly behind him to make sure no more of his wife’s words escaped. As he started on the three-block walk to the store he was grateful for the flannel jacket he was wearing. Although it was late November it seemed as though the first hints of fall were just creeping in, the crips of the air, kissing his cheeks and leaving behind rosy splotches. It wasn’t always like this, he thought as he rounded the corner. He could remember when fall made its appearance in September, October, and by November the grips of winter would begin to set in and one wouldn’t opt for walking even the three blocks to the grocery store. He made note not to stumble upon an uneven patch of sidewalk, and when he looked up he spotted a couple walking towards the direction he came from on the opposite side of the street. Although they were not holding hands the old man noticed that they walked close to each other in an enamoured way. He and his wife used to walk through the streets in the same way, before the years hardened their love and left it slowly to crumble. It wasn’t always like this. The old man had met his wife when he was a young man at a retirement party for his then boss. They bonded over their hatred for the meal served, and he asked her to ger a real meal with him the following Tuesday, and then they got married eight months later. The first few years of their marriage were blissful, marked by many moments of love, few worries and fewer fights. Then the worries started - the wife wanted kids but it hadn’t happened yet. With the worries came the mounting fights - how could they have a fulfilled marriage without children? All of her friends were on their second, third kids and she was left childless. On one November day, colder than the one he was wading through currently, he came home to his wife in tears. “We’ve done it! We’re going to have a child!” she looped her arms around his neck and buried her face in his neck. During their six month check-up it was discovered the baby no longer had a heartbeat. The doctor informed them because of the toll the pregnancy took on her body they would never have kids. There, in the cold doctor's office, was the last time the couple truly embraced. The love began to slip away just as their child had. The remaining years of their marriage they had operated as co-pilots. The intimacy and adornment of their youth were gone. Neither of them was particularly happy, but both felt they had invested too much to leave. The old man sighed as he shuffled along, realizing he had once again got lost in a daydream. He threw one last longing glance at the couple, craving the sweetness of youthful love, and hurried on his way. “Why is that old man watching us?” said the young woman as she crammed her hands into her parka. “I don’t know, don’t worry about it. Come on, we have to hurry, we were supposed to be at the divorce lawyer’s office five minutes ago.” The young man hastened his step. The young woman lengthened her strides, trying to savour their last few minutes as a married couple. “You know, it wasn’t always like this.” She murmured.