Happy Anniversary

“...What is this?” Carolyn asked.

Bob nudged her shoulder playfully. “Surely even you remember the archaic notion of the mix tape.”

It was, indeed, an old-fashioned cassette. Bob had written on the label, in his girly cursive, ‘Anniversary Mix #1’. Carolyn turned it over in her hands, ran her fingertips over the familiar contours and corners of the tape. She smiled.

“Wherever did you find it?”

“I’ll admit, I had to call around to some of my friends down at the studio, but I did it. I know you love your cranky old car and it still has a tape player, but in the event that it doesn’t work, I have this.” Bob plopped an old boom box down on the kitchen table.

Carolyn laughed. “Wow. And if we weren’t celebrating our first anniversary, I’m guessing you’d stand outside my window and hold that over your head, mix tape going at full blast?”

Bob pressed a kiss to the corner of her mouth. “You better believe it.” He nudged the boom box toward her. “Go ahead - give it a try.”

Carolyn reached out and pressed a button cautiously, and the tape deck popped open. She slid the tape in, had to pause and turn it around, and then she pressed ‘play’.

Music flooded the speakers, familiar voices. Carolyn’s eyes lit up.

“I haven’t heard this song in years! You sounded like chipmunks.”

Bob shrugged. “We were kids. But this song reminds me of you.”

Carolyn leaned back against his chest, and he wrapped his arms around her.

“I love it,” she said.

“I love you.” Bob kissed her on the cheek. “Happy anniversary.”

(274 words)