We’re at Steak ‘n Shake.
“Takhomasak,” gleams the neon sign over the counter.
It was years before I “got” it.
I’d frown. “Tahk’-oh-mah’-sak.” I’d say it slow. I’d say it fast. It sounded Japanese.
“Car, table, counter, or takhomasak?”
Ooooh. “Take home a sack.” Duh!
I’d stressed the wrong spots.
Dennis and I spoon chocolate malt from a shared glass.
The cherry is mine. And most of the whipped cream.
I sense a slight stroke in a few strands of my hair and a light tickle on my shoulder. I hear a woman whisper, “Sit down.”
Read what happened next over at BibleDude. I’ll get some more spoons.
Stilled by His love,