to grow old

On the train I watched an elderly lady unwrap a Werthers Original from it's squeaky cellophaine cover and humbly offer it to the man seated beside her, assumed to be her husband. She then unwrapped another for herself. I watched their lips move as their taste buds danced around those sweets and thought, that's what I want. To grow wrinkles with someone whom I can share my endless supply of Werthers Originals.