In lieu of actual content, will you accept a slice of today’s novel writing efforts?

“I don’t know why you feel the need to shop for me as well, my dear,” Andrew complained. His arms were already draped with a variety of shirts, and now Tara was browsing a selection of men’s slacks.

“It should be obvious, love. I simply refuse to spend my vacation with a man who looks like he should be conducting funeral services.”

“I do not!”

She raised her eyebrows, but said nothing.

“I’m over two thousand years old, and you think I can’t dress myself?”

Silence, punctuated by the clacking of hangers as she made her way through the rack, was all the answer he received.

“Fine, I can find an outfit that isn’t done entirely in black. But let me choose my own, all right?”

A disdainful sniff greeted that request. Tara pulled a pair of slacks off the rack and held it up against the bundle of shirts Andrew carried, shook her head and replaced the unworthy selection.

He sighed. “It’s your vacation, dear. But some day you and I are going to have a talk. You know full well how I feel about being bullied.”

“I’m not bullying you. I’m taking advantage of the opportunity to do things exactly the way I want for the first time since I met you.”

To that, he had no reply.