They liked to mix it up, keep it fresh.
Sometimes they held hands, one gently enveloped by the other. Or maybe just a pair of intertwined pinkies was enough.
Other times they would walk single file. She would wander ahead, enjoying the splendor of the lush forest while he lingered behind, content to admire from afar.
But no matter how they did it, they never missed it: their evening walk.
Every night, after the dishes were washed and the table cleared, they would venture outside. Together.
A bond between two lifelong lovers.
And the answer to that age old question…
The Weekday One Hundred 