A Story: When Pinky Proposed to Bette (#323)
NaNoWriMo in Progress
One weekend I flew in to Atlanta on my way to a conference. I had a day layover and I had arranged a dinner with Bette, at her favorite Vietnamese restaurant. It was a warm place, full of every tasty smell you can think of. Cabbage and long-simmered pork and beef broth. The place was a kaleidoscope of people, every ethnicity. Every shape and size. Each table a crazy combination of hues. All tucking into bowls of pho and vermicelli salads. I would be tempted to come to this place just to see the people.
But my business that evening had a more long-term ring to it. That is, I had a ring, which I brought out toward the end of the meal.
“Bette,” I said.
I held her hand.
“I know I can never replace Howie,” I said. “And I don’t want to. Howie was my…
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