How did I get so lucky? He wondered.
It was a crisp autumn afternoon. He watched her from across the glowing firepit, the occasional flame still flickering.
She sat curled up in an Adirondack chair, looking snug in her oversized wool sweater.
She removed the clip from the back of her head, letting her chestnut brown hair fall on her bare shoulders.
She crunched down on an apple, sending spray everywhere.
She went back to the trashy novel waiting patiently in her lap.
“My dirty little secret,” she would always say, laughing.
He wondered. How did I get so lucky?
The Weekday One Hundred 