The Silent Couple

Every day, weather permitting, I walk with my husband amongst the
linden trees surrounding the town square. We are both rheumatic, so he
leans on his cane while I, by force of habit, clasp his arm, though my
hand trembles as I touch him.

Today, though autumn sun shines on the church and offices, the school
and Town Hall of the square, my husband, Mr. Mezange, wears a wool
overcoat, and I have on my hat with the white ribbon. We have always
lived here; we have always walked here. On rare occasions, we visit
the seashore and the South, but we always return and on sunny days, we
always walk. My husband expects it, and I am a dutiful wife. I do not
speak to him anymore, nor he to me, but still I tread in his path,
still I am darkened by his shadow.