Her face glowed. Well, in a poetic sense, that is. She had reddish blonde hair, long to the shoulders and a complexion to match. She was short, not abnormally, but short. Her body, well, her body seemed that of a young healthy woman. She smiled a lot and made quick small talk about the wait in line for the lone cashier. My eyes kept straying to her bum, then kicking myself mentally I turned to gaze at the display rack of candies. I guessed she was in her 50s, but what 50s those were! Then her smile opened as a man moved towards her. He was older, or seemed older. Not in his movements; he moved catlike on his feet, but he had an old face that had seen life, too much life. This old face was crowned and framed by long grey hair. Not as long as hers, but long. I watched them both now, fascinated as they shared little familiarities.
“How would Emma know?” she said in her light, young voice, made attractive with a slight lisp. She looked into his face with a smile that said she knew him.
“She was there, that night” he answered, his voice, gravelly and strong and filled with kindness. He looked into her eyes, small talk and smiles covering and saying love.
They moved ahead in the line, reaching the cashier, then left together as they had come.