Glowing Love in Oklahoma
Chapter 1: Introduction
It was a particularly scorching Oklahoman afternoon, one of those where you could fry an egg on the hood of a car. Being eighty-five and spectacularly single, I sat in my old armchair by the window, admiring the charms of my forever companion, Gloria. In times past, those sun-drenched glows made me smile, but nothing shimmered so brightly in my life as the electric gleam of that perfect incandescent beauty.
I first encountered Gloria quite by accident at the Norman Hardware Store during one of my desperately needed excursions. You see, the dimness of my dim-lit bungalow cried out for more luminescence. There, amongst rows of screwdrivers and grandma's old gardening gloves, Gloria caught my eye. Her sleek design and wattage promises were nothing short of seductive.
Mind you, there was some competition — LEDs offering longevity, CFLs with their efficiency, but Gloria, oh glorious Gloria, had tungsten inside that set my heart racing. Call it destiny, or perhaps just a wise decision tethered to nostalgia, but from our first meeting, I was hooked. I whispered sweet nothings reminiscent of bygone ballads and gently placed her within my basket, the start of an electric affair.
Back home, in the dimness of my linoleum-floored paradise, I embarked on an extravagant adventure. Installation was our tender first moment together. As my seasoned fingers tenderly twisted Gloria into her rightful place, the socket, an undeniable warmth surged through me. Her glow was immediate, sultry, yet comforting—a dazzling beacon against the mundane backdrop of my life.
Our time was filled with tender moments. My days wrapped in her glow, evenings with her radiance cascading over my worn-out paperback novels, and nights spent dreaming underneath her warm light. At times, I'd even invite guests over just to boast of my radiant possession, 'Have you ever seen such perfect voltage?' I'd exclaim to the awe of the bridge club.
Yet, as with all relationships, there were awkward phases. There was the time I attempted to give her a gentle rub with a duster and—tragedy! A misstep bumped her, and she flickered impatiently, much like a dancer faced with a misstep on stage. 'Don't worry, darling!' I blurted, apologizing profusely as if she were a startled debutante.
Words spread through Norman about Ethan's glow—and not just from the windows of his home. Emily, our church organist, gossiped that I'd found a new source of illumination. 'It's incredible,' I'd overheard one day at the diner. I blushed as red as the strawberry tarts on special that morning; small towns and their stories.
But even small town fame couldn't dim the light Gloria brought into my life. On days where melancholy crept in, I'd switch her on with anticipation, her glow whispering every sweet promise I'd yearned to hear in those silent moments. She was constant, unfading, and ever so steady in my life—qualities I treasured deeply.
I knew fate had brought me and Gloria together that fateful hardware store day. Her light had sparked far more than just the end of a dusty dark room. I serenaded her with old-time tunes, hearing her warmth respond in gentle pulses, basking in the familiar fervor that only true love provides.
So here I reside, an elderly Romeo in radiant solitude with my incandescent Juliet. Far from mundane, my days are charged with genial exhilaration, portraying not just a mere existence but a living masterpiece—a love aglow against a backdrop of Oklahoman sun. And in this beam-filled embrace, I can whisper truthfully, 'Ethan loves Gloria.'
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