“I’ve got time.”
So I began.
—
I told him about a young construction worker who walked into a hardware store covered in drywall dust.
He couldn’t remember the name of the hinge he needed.
So he drew a terrible picture.
And the girl behind the counter laughed.
Mark chuckled.
“Sounds like a terrible artist.”
“He was.”
I told him how the young man kept returning to the store.
How he eventually invited the girl to dinner.
How they ate pizza at a sticky little restaurant.
Then drove to a beautiful lake surrounded by tall pine trees.
I told him about the dock.
The sunset.
And the foolish young man who looked at a girl he’d known for eight days and told her he intended to marry her.
Mark smiled.
“Bold fellow.”
“Very.”
“Did she say yes?”
“Eventually.”
I continued.
I told him about their wedding.
Their honeymoon.
