Wish

Frank plops onto the toilet, rereading the card found on the sink. It is ten-years since their first date. A milestone that’s sheepishly slipped by him. He puts an album on his iphone that he hadn’t heard in years and then only on cassette.  He’s quiet. He’s worked late and she’s sleeping in the next room dogpiled with kids and pets after a night of thunderstorms and nightmares.

But now the storm is over. 

He thinks. Thawing leftovers is better than no dinner at all.  Struggling for a promotion is better than not giving a shit. Fighting over money is better than fighting one’s own demons. A quiet moment stolen on the toilet better than hours wasted on a bar stool. 

Was it really a decade since the rot of his salad days? He smiles, prying open a beer on the toilet-paper dispenser.  No doubt these were the cake years.