I told him that was the cheesiest line I’d ever heard.
“Even if you walk out and never want to see me again… I’ll find you somehow, Marge.”
Strangely, I believed him.
We married the next year.
The diner became our place, our tradition. We returned every birthday, even after the cancer, even when he could only eat half a muffin. After he was gone, I kept continue reading …
