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I had just finished a long hot shower to cleanse the aches and tiredness of another hard day at the office from my body. It was our intent to go out for a romantic dinner to celebrate the finalization of the year-end at work; it had been over three months of preparation and auditors. The financials were finally in the hands of the Board for approval and then I could start catching up with the usual backlog at this time of year.

I stepped out of the shower stall feeling much more human again. Wrapping a towel around my waist, I wiped the accumulated steam from the mirror and gazed at the reflection. I saw a somewhat worn face (with the usual wrinkles that I preferred to call laugh lines), silver white hair and beard and blue eyes. I suppose not too shabby for a man of 62 years (soon to be 63). My enduring hope was that I would be able to keep up with my much younger wife for at least a few more years.

You and I had met at a company mixer just after I joined the firm of Young, Miles and Ferguson. You were the Executive Assistant to one of the managing partners and I was a lowly accountant. Within a year, I was wooed away from YM