Kinfauns, 1969.

“I wrote ’Something’ about you,” a familiar voice broke the comfortable silence that had settled around the dinner table, causing your head to shoot up. What did he say?! You blinked at your husband, dumbfounded. And so casually?!

“You what?” you managed to sputter out, though the wide smile on your face tells him that you’d heard him perfectly.

“‘Something’,” he repeated. “It’s about you, love. For you.”