Short story

She was born and a few days later she got married. She could hardly remember a time when Bob wasn’t an inportant part of her life.

They met in high school, a suburb of the north side of Chicago. Joyce was a freshman, Bob the big senior voted the funniest in his class; a six footer with sand colored hair, green eyes and freckles.  Who could resist him? Not Joyce who made up her mind, setting her cap, the way people spoke in the forties. Like a detective on the scent, she tracked down his schedule to find out where he’d be at homeroom. where everyone had to be at 10 a.m.

Racing up to the fourth floor domain of the seniors, the freshman , wearing a red plaid pleated skirt, red cashmere sweater set with Peter Pan collar dickey and white bobby socks with white and brown saddle shoes, ran up three flights, taking the stairs two at a time.

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