Clara was getting ready to go out to work. I flung myself across the bed and said.
“Hey, I was thinking about your convention next week. I was thinking I could come too. You would spend your days going to seminars and I would write. And at night, we would make love like newlyweds. What do you say?”
“Sorry, honey, could you repeat?” she said, lost in thoughts.
“Nothing,” I replied and began formulating an idea for a short story.