He smiled. ‘Let’s grow old together.’
Grow old? Spend the rest of her life cringing as he slurped his soup, left the toilet seat up, espoused his extreme political views, listed daily his aches, pains and hypochonric ailments and constantly harked back, ‘In my day…’
Her rose-coloured glasses toppled from her nose. The flowers shrivelled. Chocolate melted.
And she ran. Faster than any teenager!