The fire was a delightful touch for Michael. It cracked and popped unpredictably, the way he always remembered. The wood gradually losing life as it gave in a new form. There was no chill in the room, or even outside, however, it was a special night; one that needed celebration. Michael and Vivian’s thirtieth anniversary. Who could have imagined that he thought, shaking his head in disbelief as he went to the wooden display cabinet. The teak, golden object newly furnished and gave a gleaming shine, even if the lighting in the room was piss-poor. The whole room actually didn’t work. Unmatched and unpopular seventies furniture shadowed every inch of the room. It was Vivian’s thinking that did it, but it was only a small price to pay. The house itself was above average in the neighborhood, so Michael had that to be proud of.
Searching for a bottle of wine, he chose a red. Andre’s Cold Duck. It surprisingly was his favorite ever since Harry took it upon himself to show Michael a good time. He smiled at the memory and headed back to where his glass was on the media counsel. He brushed his brown, well-groomed curly hair back as he poured. His teal, buttoned-down shirt from work caught everyone’s attention while his tan, tight pants favored his thighs and crotch. After a small, refreshing sip, he found himself looking through his record collection. The collection was small, but when he found one he liked at a nearby store, there was no hesitation in buying it. The collection had taken him twenty years for it to be at this point. It wasn’t much, but he was satisfied with it.
Finding one and carefully stripping it out, the music started playing. The beautiful voice of Frank Sinatra echoed delightfully throughout the room. A classic, and no better way to use it tonight. Pouring a little more, Micheal took a seat and watched the whimsical flames of the fire. He was finally at peace.
Vivian leaned into the stove and grabbed the finished turkey. She was perspiring from all the effort she gave to have this dinner perfect. The table was set with expensive silverware and dinner plates. Two, vertical crimson candles completed everything, giving the night some welcomed intimacy. Picking up a match, she ignited the flame. All set, she told herself going over it one last time. At that moment, she heard the voice. One like no other on the planet. Frank Sinatra’s voice. Her head tilted up as she smiled ear to ear, reliving old, wonderful memories. She swayed slowly to the heaven like rhythm. Her red dress gave her a seductive attitude whenever she wore it, and tonight was no different. It revealed everything she wanted to with her body. Plus, red was her color and matched with her dirty blonde hair. Even though she was coming up on fifty, there was no second guessing how well she looked. Age is nothing she always said. Her girlfriends wanted to know her secrets, and whenever they asked, she just smiled and thanked them. Now, it was Michael who was going to be impressed.