When the sun fell behind big buildings

and the blaze went out of the day, we

went in search of dinner. I didn’t care if

I never got home. Because it was just

perfect now. I wondered briefly if Laura

and I might get a hotel, but I knew my

funds wouldn’t stretch to that. We found

a quaint pizzeria, and giggled our way

through a large Margherita. Everything

was amusing. The stringy cheese sticking

to our mouths was hysterical. The Italian

waiters were out-and-out clowns. Nobody

else in the world existed. It was fabulous.

I was sure Laura felt the same way.

Author: Robert James Berry

Poet & Novelist

82 thoughts on “Fabulous”

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