Nuance (Flash Fiction)

The last rays of day arched across the grapevines at the wine tasting.  I had turned involuntarily; thus seeing the woman I had waited my entire life to meet.  She was talking about the nuances of Poire Belle-Hélène and the heresy of using canned pears. Her voice coalesced between English and French.  Me…I just wanted her to keep talking in French; I was entranced by the way her lips caressed each syllable.  She noticed, smiled, and walked over.  We talked about the golden hue of the leaves, as our eyes reflected our golden hues.  We feel in love; now for thirty years.
(Nuance ©, Steven S. Walsky, 2012.)