“We’re celebrating our twentieth anniversary this year, what about you guys?”
“Oh, that’s great. I can’t believe it’s been eighteen years.”
She: (aside) Is that right? Are you sure?
He: You’re hilarious. 1992.
She: Blank stare. A blink. She loathes math.
He: That’s eighteen years. In October.
She: What? Not eighteen until this October? It seems longer. It seems nineteen at least.
He: Well, the last year has been like a dog year.
And she took solace in the fact that he still made her laugh every day of how ever many years it had been, even though she hoped when they looked back on this last one they would find it was among the worst.