Fourteen days after the real date

Not knowing exactly where. I dressed in my less rugged clothing.

As he motioned the coupe, he asked me where I want to dine.

"Let's consider this our anniversary dinner date. Think of something more than the usual. It's been awhile since we feasted somewhere fancy," he said.

What happened to my big appetite? Suddenly it was gone. I couldn't think of anything. "You decide," I told him. After awhile, we agreed to check out Eastwood.

Before stepping out of the car, he handed me something in a paper bag. I asked him what it was; he said "open it." I may perhaps exaggerate here, but the wind really took me out of my sails. It was a white gold bracelet with my name and the words "My love" written on both sides of the plate. "Happy anniversary," he whispered.

Fourteen days after the real date. . . .