I’m waiting, he said. You take forever. What are you wearing anyway? A black dress? You always wear that black dress. This isn’t a funeral. He laughed. I’m going to fix a drink. You want something? Scotch? Maybe a cranberry and vodka? You hear me?

It’s too quiet in here, he said. The husband walked over to his album collection and picked out Dexter Gordon. This will get you moving. Still didn’t tell me what you want to drink. How about a gin and tonic? It’s getting close to summer. Remember? We used to drink those on summer evenings when the kids were out. Or in. He placed ice in a highball glass. I’m guessing you want a double. Coming up.

As he made drinks, wind began to blow the swings. The iron chains and wood made a creaking sound. Sounds like us, he softly said out loud. We’re getting older.

He heard their bedroom door shut. Her heels clicked on the hardwood floors. She stopped by a mirror in the living room and looked into it. Not bad, she said. Not bad at all.

How do I look? she asked, flattening out a wrinkle on her cocktail dress. You like it?

Yes, he said. Yes. Very much.