And it so happened that he got the invitation on the third of April, on a day when although the calendar said it was spring, there was still only a trace of it in the air. But when you were retired, you paid the weather and the season of the year less attention, usually being able to avoid that which you found inhospitable and somewhat unbearable. There was a damp and chilling wind from the east as he reached out from the warmth of his snug, split-level home in the suburbs to get the mail. There was just one item in the box. He took it out and retreated back into the house, disappearing into his study, to his desk.
After he’d opened the envelope, he sat for a few moments studying the card that had been contained inside, as if perhaps hoping that it would yield up something more than it already had. And that had been a date and time at a place he guessed must be a restaurant in a neighbouring city. Oh, yes, it also said, “Your presence is kindly requested for dinner at.…..”, but there was nothing more. It caused him to wonder. And to think.
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