Lavender Fantasy

I imagine myself in Brian Williams' walk-in closet, running my hand along his tie rack. "Enough of the stripes, already!" I say sternly, but under my breath so as not to hurt his feelings. I stop at the Purple Section. I know if I forbid a stripe, I have to at least let him have a Purple. I sigh, deeply and resignedly. I look over my shoulder at him, standing there expectantly and boyishly, pouting just a little, crisp white shirt open at the neck, sophisticated black suitcoat over his arm, waiting for the cravat. I select the lavender matte raw silk. He brightens, and those endearing laugh lines crinkle at the corners of his eyes. It takes so little to make him happy.