Romance on the Sea
By Emery C. Walters
Somewhere in the hour-long shuffle toward cruise terminal security, someone ran a suitcase over my foot. The bad one. Then at the counter, a suitcase dropped on my foot. The bad one. As the day wore on, I discovered that my bright idea of wearing the new comfortable shoes, was a stupid one; they grew less and less comfortable as the hours passed. By the time we boarded the ship, five hours after leaving the house, I could barely hobble. The shoes came off, and I am now one of those elderly men you see wearing socks with sandals. It has come to this.
Roger and I are barely speaking. I wish we hadn’t decided to continue to travel together this one last time; we were one of the first gay couples to get married, and also one of the first to get divorce
