Spanish Chic - Reunion - One Month Later

Spanish Chic - Reunion - One Month Later  

       “John, the email you gave me sent back a reply saying, ‘Custom eulogies for your dearly departed to dress up those closet skeletons as endearing peccadillos for a person of otherwise sterling character to bring comic relief to the bereaved.’ Can you imagine how that shook me up?”      
     “My handwriting is atrocious. Next time I won’t write in cursive.”      
     “My first question upon showing up for work this past month was, ‘have you seen Mr. John?’ They answered, ‘not a sign of him.’”    
     “Oh, darling, I was worried about you too. Truthfully I was quarantining. I should have attempted to get the word to you. I didn’t know if you wanted me to bring our closeness to the attention of the other waitresses.”  
     “Are you kidding me? They are laying odds on when you’ll ask me out. Fifty dollars is riding on the outcome. We are already an item in the kitchen. Inquiring minds, among whom I am one, want to know.”  
     “Well butter my butt and call me a biscuit!”    
     “I had a dream that the morgue called me to identify your body because I was the only close relation you had locally. So I went there. They pulled open the drawer and there before me was your sweet face ashen in its pallor. They asked me if I wanted any of your belongings so I took your glasses with me as a last keepsake to remember you by. Don’t ever frighten me like that again.”      
     “Nothing short of an apocalypse will keep me away from you again.”      
     She takes my order to the kitchen saying, “Mr. John is back. He is well, thank God.”