Falling Angels

Richard Coleman

I told Kitty we’ve been invited for New Year’s by the same people as last year. She was quiet, looking at me with those dark brown eyes that seduced me years ago but now simply judge me. If she hadn’t looked at me like that I might not have added what I did.

“I’ve already told them we’ve accepted,” I said, although I hadn’t yet. “With pleasure.”

We shall go on accepting their invitations every year until Kitty becomes my wife again.