A lost love.

I buff the rear view mirror with my coat sleeve.

Crowded steps. Groomsmen. Shivering bridesmaids.

A blur of white lace disappears inside.

I slide along the back row. Old, familiar, burnished slick. She passes.

Me to the aisle. Crisp scent of White Linen.

The organ quiets. I arch and crane. A glimpse, a profile wedged in memory.

Then, a kiss to another.

My collar up, I sidle away.

The End

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