Love means never having to say a thing.
|Comb that cowlick out of your hair." Myra Grasser ordered, dabbing a fine red powder upon her cheeks.
Such brusqueness had long ago ceased to ire the man she married sixty years before.
"Oh never mind, I'll do it for you..."
With several sweeps of the comb she mitigated the grey imperfection. Tweaking the position of her bifocals she then wound the watch dangling on his slender wrist before her eyes narrowed into a disapproving squint: "Are you going to wear that?" she cried "Oh no...let me get you another."
She was gone and back before he knew it, a pair of neckties hanging from her forearm. Upon removing the original she then held each of the new prospects against the shirt of white oxford cloth. She went back and forth in this manner for some time before tying on a handsome striped specimen.
"Rupert was a baby when we last saw him." she said, appraising the results, "Now hes a C.P.A, can you imagine?"
Barely had the question been posed when the doorbell sounded. Coming Rupert!" she shouted while rushing to the door.
The reunion was so overdue that the sentiments exchanged just inside the doorway lasted several minutes. Finally the lady of the house led her nephew to the room where his uncle awaited.
The features on the young man's face reconfigured violently upon encountering the figure in the chair.
What skin was left was yellowish brown and pulled so tight that it was obvious the man who had been his uncle was now a skeleton wearing a suit.
"Poor George lost his voice eight years ago Rupert, but I assure you he's as delighted to see you as I am."
Turning to her nephew Myra Grasser grew concerned: 'Did I pick the wrong necktie, after all?' she wondered.