This evening she’d walked into this bar (although that wasn’t what it was called) to have a Daiquiri. She had not had one for years.
She was sitting at the bar when she heard a voice.
A sneering annoyed voice, and recognised it.
Emma turned her head slightly, and yes! There, arguing with a much younger woman, who was leaving, stood an overweight, sloppily dressed, balding, loud mouth guy…Parker!.
Unmistakable; that was Parker.
In twenty six years, she had gone from a size one to a size four but due to the gym and diet, she hovered between size two and size three.
Her hair wasn’t as long as it had been when she was a girl, but fell easily around her face, only slightly dyed. Her complexion was good. She knew she looked forty-ish.
But Parker was a hideous facsimile of what he had been. Not only was his physical beauty done, his once chiseled features surrounded by a puffy fat, not only was his voice corrupted by whine and sneer, but from his dress, he obviously was not doing well.