“For most of my life,” I said, “
I thought certainty was the same thing as safety.”
Daniel took my hand.
“It isn’t?”
“No.”
“What is?”
I smiled.
“Having someone worth being uncertain with.”
He kissed me under that streetlight.
A year later, we returned to the same bar where we had met.
Same corner.
Same jazz.
Different dress.
This one was red.
Daniel sat across from me.
“You look beautiful.”
“You used that line last year.”
“It worked.”
“Barely.”
A waiter approached carrying dessert.
One candle.
I narrowed my eyes.
“I am sixty-three. You could afford sixty-three candles.”
“The Chicago Fire Department asked me not to.”
I kicked him under the table.
He laughed.
Then reached into his jacket.
My heart stopped.
“No.”
Daniel froze.
“What?”
“If that is a ring, put it back.”
His face collapsed.
Several people nearby started laughing.
“I had a whole speech.”
“I’m sure it was lovely.”
