Free We'll Always Have Paris by Ray Bradbury

good friends. Barbecue! Drinks and fun!’
    Spaulding crushed his hand. ‘Will your wife mind about tonight?’
    ‘Not Elma.’
    ‘I’ll come for you at eight o’clock.’
    ‘Fine!’
    And Mr Alexander was off like a ball of Spanish moss blown on the wind.
    After she left the store, Mrs Alexander was discovered in the streets of the
    town by a sea of women. She was the center of a bargain sale, ladies clustering in twos and
    threes, everyone talking, laughing, offering, accepting at once.
    ‘Tonight, Elma. The Thimble Club.’
    ‘Come pick me up!’
    Breathless and flushed, she pushed through, made it to a far curb, looked
    back as one looks at the ocean for a last time before going inland, and hustled, lighting to
    herself, down the avenue, counting on her fingers the appointments she had in the next week at
    the Elm Street Society, the Women’s Patriotic League, the Sewing Basket, and the Elite Theatre
    Club.
    The hours blazed to their finish. The courthouse clock rang once.
    Mr Alexander stood on the street corner, glancing at his watch doubtfully and
    shaking it, muttering under his breath. A woman was standing on the opposite corner, and after
    ten minutes of waiting, Mr Alexander crossed over. ‘I beg your pardon, but I think my watch is
    wrong,’ he called, approaching. ‘Could you give me the correct time?’
    ‘John!’ she cried.
    ‘Elma!’ he cried.
    ‘I was standing here all the time,’ she said.
    ‘And
I
was standing over there!’
    ‘You’ve got a new suit!’
    ‘That’s a new dress!’
    ‘New hat.’
    ‘So is yours.’
    ‘New shoes.’
    ‘How do
yours
fit?’
    ‘Mine hurt.’
    ‘So do mine.’
    ‘I bought tickets for a play Saturday night for us, Elma! And made
    reservations for the Green Town picnic next month! What’s that perfume you’re wearing?’
    ‘What’s that cologne
you’ve
got on?’
    ‘No
wonder
we didn’t recognize each other!’
    They looked at each other for a long time.
    ‘Well, let’s get home. Isn’t it a beautiful day?’
    They squeaked along in their new shoes. ‘Yes, beautiful!’ they both agreed,
    smiling. But then they glanced at each other out of the corner of their eyes and suddenly
    looked away, nervously.
    Their house was blue dark; it was like entering a cave after the fresh green
    spring afternoon.
    ‘How about a little lunch?’
    ‘Not hungry. You?’
    ‘Me neither.’
    ‘I sure do like my new shoes.’
    ‘Mine, too.’
    ‘Well, what’ll we do the rest of the day?’
    ‘Oh, go to a show, maybe.’
    ‘After we rest awhile.’
    ‘You’re not
tired
!’
    ‘No, no, no,’ she cried hastily.
‘You?’
    ‘No, no!’ he said quickly.
    They sat down and felt the comfortable darkness and coolness of the room
    after the bright, glaring warm day.
    ‘I think I’ll just loosen my shoelaces a bit,’ he said. ‘Just untie the knots
    a moment.’
    ‘I think I’ll do the same.’
    They loosened the knots and the laces in their shoes.
    ‘Might as well get our hats off!’
    Sitting there, they removed their hats.
    He looked over at her and thought: Forty-five years. Married to her
    forty-five years. Why, I can remember…and that time in Mills Valley…and then there was that
    other day…forty years ago we drove to…yes…yes. His head shook. A long time.
    ‘Why don’t you take off your tie?’ she suggested.
    ‘Think I should, if we’re going right out again?’ he said.
    ‘Just for a moment.’
    She watched him take off his tie and she thought: It’s been a good marriage.
    We’ve helped each other; he’s spoon-fed, washed, and dressed me when I was sick, taken good
    care…Forty-five years now, and the honeymoonin Mills
    Valley–seems like only the day before the day before yesterday.
    ‘Why don’t you get rid of your earrings?’ he suggested. ‘New, aren’t they?
    They look heavy.’
    ‘They
are
a bit.’ She laid them aside.
    They sat in their comfortable soft chairs by the green baize tables where
    stood arnica