Grace is in love. Yes, love in the golden years. It is unmistakable. He walks in the room and she melts. Her eyes go all puppy eyes. A smile grows wide across her toothless mouth. She sits up straight, hand goes quickly through her hair.
In contrast to the strange stuff she says all day, a moment of clarity as she says a breathy greeting,
Grace holds out her hand and whispers to me giggling, “He’s cuuuuuuute.”
Fortunately John is good natured and returns the smile but is painfully aware that he is two inches away from the death grip of stalking-style love.
Her eyes say COME HITHER, but John is tactfully looking for his escape. He indulges her like a celebrity to his audience, but gracefully slips away to prepare for his next audience.