Heather stretched languidly in bed, inhaling the aroma of fresh coffee wafting from the kitchen. She smiled, listening to her husband singing off-key to “American Pie.” He knew every word to all 20 plus verses. Up next would be a collection of Buddy Holly hits. His playlist was as predictable as Dan himself.
Dan cracked the bedroom door to see if she was awake, then entered with a bed tray laden with a heaping plate, two steaming mugs and a vase with a daisy from their yard.
“Matzah Brei?!” Heather exclaimed. “It’s not my birthday. Did you buy the Tesla? Seriously, if you bought the Tesla, you’re taking it back.”
“Take it easy! I didn’t buy the Tesla. I just wanted to do something nice for you. Scoot over.”
The foursome were enjoying their sundowner cocktails and 
Today is a significant date. First and foremost, it is my husband’s birthday. Aaron, the Captain of my boat and my heart, was born in 1964 and is 55 today. He is the most unselfish person I have ever met, giving of his time and talent, and most of all, Love, to his friends and family. He is completely devoted to our three Grands and, with his retirement, he spends more time with them than any of the grandparents, including me! He coaches Little League, builds props for my daughter’s photography business, and shows up just to cuddle our little princess when mommy needs a break. This from a guy who never had children and became a step-father when my kids were teens! We are blessed to have him in our lives and will celebrate with the kids after he coaches a baseball game this afternoon.
“Amy! Dinnertime! C’mon home!”
She didn’t know how she was going to decide. The relationships had started due to her best friend’s push to get her on a dating website.
The sour-faced woman raised her eyebrows after scanning my ID card. “I’m sorry, we can’t accept your vote.”
Amy stretched languidly, enjoying the morning quiet.
He considered himself immortal. He’d had plenty of broken bones and visits to the emergency room in his 33 years as a stuntman. In each of the three near-death experiences, he was drawn to a light but it always dimmed before he reached it. And then he woke to excruciating pain.
“Fort Awsome,” the sign read. In all actuality, it wasn’t a “fort” and “awsome” was spelled wrong. Both were mortal sins in her book and she felt no remorse in ripping the shoddily made wooden plaque off the rickety beach shelter, placing it in the garbage bag she carried. 
Vivo O Sonho 