night for dinner. My wife’s cooking will rival that of the Peppermill,” he smiled.

“Uh, sure,” I said, “sounds great.”

“Six o’clock work for you?” Alan asked as he looked at the clock on his phone.

“Yeah,” I said.

“Great,” Alan smiled and turned to the door, “talk to ya later Marcy.”

“Bye,” I said.

Another one of Alan’s attempts to get his wife Teresa to like me. Not that she hated me, but she didn’t see my eccentricities as charming like Alan did. But, it would at least be interesting.

...

Please subscribe to keep reading.