Prompt: For this round, we challenge you to write a story about a character turning sixty-four based on a line in the song When I'm Sixty-Four.

I'm using the lines: "Will you still need me, will you still feed me When I'm sixty-four?"

Martha stood before her wardrobe, hands on her hips, staring at her carefully folded clothes. She hated them all and regretted not buying something new for her date. Was it too late to quickly dash to the mall? After all, they'd agreed to meet at nine in the evening, so she still had two hours.

Ultimately, at a loss, she decided to call Sara. Thankfully, her friend picked up quickly, and Sara's smiling face appeared on the screen. Martha angled her phone to show her wardrobe.

"Tell me what to wear—I don't have a decent rag!" she exclaimed, collapsing onto her bed as if she'd completely given up. "I'm not going anywhere!"

"Come on, don't be like that. You've got loads of clothes—I'll help you pick something, okay?"

"Do we have time to buy something new? Could you come with me to the mall?"

"The grandkids are here; I said I'd watch them, but I'll meet you at that weird bar by 8:30. By the way, you picked the place?" Sara turned her camera to show the two kids sitting on the couch, controllers in hand. "Say hi to Martha!"

The two bored teenage kids gave a quick wave, still engrossed in their game.

"They wouldn't even notice if I wasn't here, but I promised my daughter I'd keep an eye on them to ensure they don't do anything stupid."

"So, you do not have time for me? Ugh, I'm so stressed. Do I even need this?"

"How many years have you been flirting with him? Two? Don't joke around. You've put enough time into this man—you need to see it through." Sara walked into the kitchen, setting her phone on the counter to make coffee, and still saw her friend.

"Ahh, don't remind me. What if he's too young? What if he doesn't show up? Isn't it weird that we've never video-chatted? If only I'd at least seen his face!"

"But he knows how old you are, right? You told him, like we discussed?"

"Yes... well, you know, I don't feel sixty-four, so I made it a bit nicer... But I don't look that age, right?"

"Martha, how much did you tell him?"

"Well, he thinks I'm fifty. But everyone says I don't look a day over fifty! I keep myself up, I do yoga, and I go for a run every Sunday. I don't look sixty-four, do I?"

"Sweetie, we've been over this a thousand times. If you're serious about him, you can't start things off with a lie. If you two hit it off, and he finds out you lied about your age, imagine how awkward that'll be!"

"He's not going to show up; I know it! Or he'll see me and turn right around. I've had dates like that before... Sara, I'm so tired of this. I'm jealous of you; you have grandkids... After 38 years of marriage, nothing, just back pain..."

"Now you've got to see it through; you can't just throw away two years of flirting. I don't think he's that young, anyway. What's his profile picture? The guy from The Big Lebowski move. Anyone who knows that movie isn't that young. He's been so sweet this time and never asked for inappropriate photos. Not young..."

"All right, you're right. So, will you help me pick an outfit?"

"Of course! It would help if you had a subtle dress, you know, something that says you're not too invested in this whole thing. Like, I just dropped by to chat for a bit."

"Wait, I think he messaged me! I'll call you right back!"

Martha quickly ended the call and tapped on the profile picture of the Big Lebowski. Matthew2138's sweet words awaited her. "Sweetheart!" he always began his messages that way. Then, on a new line, he continued, "Will you still need me, will you still feed me, When I'm sixty-four?"

Martha sat on her bed for a few minutes, trying to figure out what he meant by that. Then, frantically, she called Sara back.

"I'm done for!" she started, sounding defeated. "He knows I'm sixty-four."

"How would he know if you didn't tell him? What did he write?" Sara asked, already seated and sipping her coffee.

"I think he quoted a The Beatles song. I can't remember the title..." She began humming.

"And what did you reply?"

"Nothing yet—Sara, help me! What do I say?"

"Relax. Write something sweet. Tell him you promise, and you're looking forward to the date!"

"Okay, hang on. I'll message him." Martha typed excitedly. "Okay, sent."

"By the way, did you agree on how you'll recognize him?"

"He said he'll recognize me by my sweet smile. I sent him that photo from my niece's wedding, you know, the one that turned out well!"

"Oh, sweetie, but that was years ago. This is what I was talking about!"

"I should wear something youthful, something eye-catching. I have that turquoise dress; I've never worn it. What do you think?"

"Put it on; let me see."

*

The two women laughed as they hurried through the drizzle toward the pub called the Man Cave. One in high heels looked like she was off to a gala, while the other was dressed casually as if she had just popped out to buy bread at the corner store. If you watched them long enough, it'd be impossible to guess where they were headed or what they were up to. This was precisely what the man watching the pub wondered as he noticed them approaching. Tugging his dog along, he made his way toward the two women.

"Ladies, do you happen to smoke? Could I ask for a light?" the man said as he struggled to control his dog with one hand while holding up a cigarette with the other, indicating he needed a light. Martha rummaged through her small handbag and leaned over kindly to offer him a lighter. When the flame flickered to life, her overly bold makeup became visible.

The man stared at her face a little too long; he had already lit his cigarette. Holding an umbrella, Sara laughed impatiently, prompting the man to thank them for the light and continue on his way.

"The problem is, you're too nice; you always assume the best about everyone," Sara grumbled as they walked down the stairs. "What if he snatches your bag right out of your hand? You hear such awful stories these days."

"But he had a dog with him! He was probably just out for a walk and forgot his lighter," Martha defended him.

She found the pub too gloomy with its dark colors, and the waitress's appearance was unsettling. She hid her discomfort with exaggerated giggles, fully aware it was just a nervous habit—and she knew Sara saw through it, which made her grateful to have her friend there.

They sat at the only free table, and Martha couldn't shake the feeling that this whole thing was a terrible mistake. "I've already changed my mind. Let's have a drink and go home," she said, adjusting the neckline of her dress. She felt uncomfortable in it anymore; the cut now seemed too revealing.

"Don't be silly! Has he replied yet?" Sara asked, not looking up from the drink menu.

"No, not since then."

"Listen, let's agree on a signal. If he's awful, you pull your hair back behind your head—that'll be my cue to come over and rescue you."

"What would I do without you!" Martha was grateful for Sara's support.

The waitress brought their cocktails, and Martha read the message for the hundredth time. "I just don't understand why he hasn't written back yet."

"Maybe he's just getting ready or on his way. Do you know where he lives?"

"No, not really."

"Have you figured out what kind of business he has?"

"He always dodges that question, so no. But I do know he's divorced and doesn't have kids."

"Well, that's something... But tell me, what do you two talk about for hours without knowing each other?"

"Oh, I don't know—movies, books, his favorite places. He's traveled so much... I haven't been anywhere, not even on a proper vacation. So, things like that. I barely talked about anything with my ex-husband. I don't even know what kept us together. We didn't even have kids—he didn't want them. Oh, Sara, when I think of everything I missed out on because of him."

"I've told you before, you were too good to him. You should've put your foot down!"

"Do you think I should message Matthew? I'll take a photo of this colorful jukebox and send it to him, so he knows I'm here, right?"

"Yes, that's a good idea. Look, I'll sit over at the bar. He should be arriving soon; I don't want to sit here if he's early. Good luck, okay?" Sara squeezed her hand and gave her a reassuring smile.

Martha smiled back, but she felt a lump in her throat. She glanced down at her phone, then back at the door. Her nerves were on edge, and she felt warm—maybe her makeup was smudging. At least she could feel a bead of sweat trickling down her forehead.

She should probably go to the bathroom, but what if he arrived while she was gone?

To distract herself, Martha scanned the other guests. She was most drawn to a young couple holding hands and talking—a tall, slender girl and a boy with glasses earnestly explaining something.

If only she could go back in time and be that young again. She'd do a lot of things differently. Maybe Sara was right; she should have thought about what she wanted out of life. Somewhere along the way, she'd forgotten. But maybe now, things would turn out all right.

Her phone lit up with a message: "Sweetheart, I'm running late. Please don't be mad!" Martha jumped up as if she'd been pinched and hurried to the restroom. She couldn't have waited another minute, secretly relieved that Matthew was a bit delayed. As she touched up her makeup in the bathroom, she exchanged a few words with a friendly curly-haired girl, which lifted her mood. She was glad to feel refreshed, and her makeup looked fine.

When she returned to her table, she finally replied to Matthew: "Oh, no problem! I'm waiting here eagerly for you. When will you get here, Sweetheart?" Then, in another message, she told Sara he'd be a bit late. Sara glanced back at her, shaking her head disapprovingly. She almost knew what her friend was thinking—that this meeting had been delayed far too long. But she couldn't be upset with him when he wrote such sweet messages, and he always seemed to be on business trips.

It had been a while since anyone had entered the door, and she hadn't received any new messages. She started feeling bored when a commotion erupted at a table where five guys were sitting. But she couldn't focus on it because Matthew finally sent a message.

"Sweetheart, I'd hurry to you, but there's something I need to take care of first. You don't mind, right?" Heart emoji. How long am I supposed to wait here? Martha asked herself. On an impulse, she decided to ask the question that had been on her mind:

"What did you mean by that Beatles quote? Indicate precisely what you mean to say." she wrote, referencing a line from the song.

She placed her phone on the table, but his reply arrived almost immediately.

"Sweetheart, can I be very honest with you? You know I love you, but I'm in big trouble." Sad, crying emoji.

"Of course, I'm here to help however I can. I love you too!" Cheerful, winking emoji.

"My business went bankrupt. I just found out. I was too trusting and got tricked..." Very sad face emoji.

"Ohh, that's terrible!" Sympathetic emoji.

"That's why I sent the song quote—I might be in jail for a while. I wondered if you'd wait for me when I get out?" Hopeful emoji.

Heart emoji. "Are you sure there's no other way? Is there anything that can be done to avoid jail?"

"Well, if I paid a lot to some very bad people, they might not turn me in, but the problem is I invested everything in the business. I have nothing left..." Sobbing emoji.

"How much would you need? Maybe I can help." Smiling emoji.

"I don't want to burden you with this, Sweetheart. You're too good to me." Heart emoji.

"I can't stand the thought of you going to jail. When will we even get to meet?" Desperate emoji.

"Yes, that bothers me too—that we've just found each other, and now we can't be together." Heart emoji.

"Just tell me how much you need, and I'll transfer it to you as soon as I get home." Angel emoji.

In shock, Martha stared at her phone, smiled, and finished her cocktail. She knew she should explain why she wanted to give so much money to an unknown man, so she kept it a secret and only told Sara that her love wasn't coming after all.