Mark draped a few ties on their bed as he put on his belt. The door to the master bath opened and Kate walked out, a towel wrapped around her. She walked up behind him and peeked over his shoulder.
“The black one,” she said, pressing her body up against his, her lips lightly brushing the nape of his neck.
“You don’t think I should pick something more…I don’t know, festive?” Mark replied.
“I think you should match your date,” Kate said with a light giggle, walking into their closet. Even after so many years, Mark was still enchanted by her airy laugh. “Besides, you know *Chez Trois* is the fanciest restaurant in the city. The atmosphere’ll be more ‘restrained’ and ‘dignified’, not ‘festive’.”
Her husband shrugged, buttoning up his white shirt. “Take it to mean your new dress is black?”
“Among other things,” Kate said as she walked out of their closet.