Mildred knew. Their decades of matrimony towed beauties half his age.
Harvest being bountiful, they shared with others. Mildred remembered an elderly friend.
“Write a note, in case she isn’t home when we deliver,” her husband suggested.
“Both our names?” Mildred asked.
“Just yours.”
They drove over. Mildred succeeded in handing her gift.
News spread quickly. Mildred’s friend was found slumped in a chair. By her feet, a bitten apple.
The bag with remaining apples graced the table. On its surface: “From Kenneth and Mildred.”