Sudden bursts of happiness and self-respect, marches through a fragile soul of Mrs. Smith, every time she gets a rich bouquet from her secret admirer. In those moments, she ceases to be mere air, gets out of shriveled housewife bubble and becomes Rosebud, delicate Tulip petal or ecstatic Orchid dancer.
Her husband, Mr. Smith, shouldn’t know anything about that. John wouldn’t understand it. He would ruin everything – son of remote highlanders, descendant of fervent sheep and goats lovers. He, however, is not upset about it at all.
He is not mad of hers keeping their little secret. It’s only important she’s always happy, welcoming him with glowing eyes, while him, enjoying his wife transformation as much as his own shrewdness, naively sits at the dining table. From the kitchen, usually, comes sticky cookies smoke.
This is my old one. Please keep in mind, that English is not my natural language, so, this is must be full of bugs. I am not soffisticated in English as much as I am in Serbian. Feel free to inform me about errors so I can edit the text and polish it.
Thanks! Follow and eteem if you like.