The Little Dress
Fidgeting in his chair, he watched her try to squeeze into the dress. The little dress he so adored. The little dress she refused to acknowledge no longer fit.
“Just a little tug here and there,” she groaned.
He felt awful. Why did he suggest that dress?
She look at him with determined blue eyes. “I need help with the zipper?”
He stood behind the woman that changed his life. The woman that gave him children.
He stared at the stubborn zipper that would never close. How could he tell her she wasn’t a size six? Perhaps, she would never be a size six, again.
He kissed her pale back and sighed. “Honey, I was thinking, let’s not go to the party.”
She spun around. “You said this event was important.”
You are more important, he thought.
“What about the baby sitter?”
“Babysitter’s paid for. Let’s change into our jeans. Drive around. Maybe park in that little spot we used to park in to make out.”
“Are you sure?”
Uncertain he was doing the right thing, he embraced her. Across the room he noticed their wedding photo hanging on the wall.
His doubts evaporated, “Absolutely.”
Photo borrowed from google images.