At least, I didn’t have to expect a husband that opened the door. Heck, he’d probably be really surprised when I pushed a bunch of flowers in his ...and!I chuckled as I rang the doorbell and patiently waited.I heard somebody stumbling behind the door and yelling, “Just a second!” before a flushed Ilse opened the door a moment later.She looked stunning once more. She was wearing the same dress as yesterday, but had styled her hair in a different way and it also looked as if she had applied some. The truth, I didn’t like her. She was proud, stuck up and only responded to a hello if in the mood, a corridor passerby ignored by other students as a snob. Years later, after she looked me up, we met over coffee in Seattle. She’d changed. She was bubbly to the point of felicity, no longer stuck up or arrogant. As we reminisced of school days, the café door jolted open, a customer walked in, she jerked her gaze to see who, her shoulder-length hair flitted in a flutter askew. I saw the hearing. More

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