Remember.

He just wanted to sit quietly. enjoy his drink and read silently. Beneath his desk lamp, he read.

And she interrupted and said:

“The moon is so beautiful it hurts that I can only stare at it before bed”.

Made no sense in his head.

The memory of her has been long gone and dead. Grateful for it too. An uneven match that couldn’t end too soon.

Now in his old age, as his wife lays in the other room. He sat with his book and drink outside...

Underneath the moon.