fiction

.scene.

The spatting fifty-year-olds jerk to a halt, mid-slap, mid-sentence and smooch in the middle of the subway.

A tweed-coated man looks up from his newspaper…reclaimed from the floor after Spatting Woman finished swatting Spatting Man with it.

A young girl with light-up sandals and glitter lip gloss giggles while her best friend in pigtails hides her eyes and peeks.

And soon, the full compartment applauds the extraordinary display of tongue and marital love.

When Marsha pulls back, she smacks Frank (again) and straightens her bedazzled jean jacket with a motorcycle angel patch over the pocket.

“Next time,” she says, “just pay your share of the bill.”

Frank pinches her, smiles, and nods.

When the tweed-coated man looks up, he notes aloud the great wisdom of the gentleman, and all the males on the subway nod with gravity.

“Such is married life,” another comments.

And again, a burst of applause.

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