Max and Rosie
The shrill sound of the tea kettle shattered Max’s reverie. He was remembering when he and Rosie met thirty-eight years ago. Sighing deeply, he looked down at the yellow mug and remembered the vision of the two of them rowing down the Charles River that May morning, the night after their first date, the first of many, before shocking everyone they knew by getting married one April weekend while still in their senior year of college. He had been attending Harvard and she was at Radcliffe, a few...