The Sweetest Words

He’s a poet, and he doesn’t know it

Photo by William Daigneault on Unsplash

It had been a rough week and Eric promised to make mojitos Friday night.

I’d lost my keys, scratched the car and forgotten an appointment. I was feeling like the world’s biggest f***up.

Limes were patiently juiced and mint muddled. My refreshment, almost too pretty to drink, was set before me. And I promptly knocked it…