"I've always hated that vow," I said, flipping through some stationary. My fiancee looked up from his stack of possible layouts for the wedding invitations. His face was split: relief for getting a much needed reprieve and confusion at the sudden topic change.
"What vow?" he asked, an eyebrow raised.
"'Til death do us part'. And any variations thereof." I stared intently at the stationary in my hands, determined not to meet his gaze. I could feel his confusion penetrate my body as he started at me.
"Why? I thought you were such a romantic. I've read some of your stories and if there's anything that you love; it's love."
"Which is why I utterly despise that vow. Til death do us part," I scoffed. A rustle of papers caused my head to flick upwards. He had tossed the papers aside and walked towards me. He grabbed the stationary out of my hands and laid it gently on the coffee table. With a sigh he sat down on the couch beside me and pulled me close.
"I'll bite. What is it about that vow that you cannot stand? Is it too cliche? Does its commonness take away from the passionate promise it makes?"
"That's just it!" I said, turning my face up, towards his. "Not the fact that it's totally cliched, which it is, but that irony that the 'promise' it makes is not passionate at all!"
His eyebrows scrunched together, furrowing his brow. His dark brown eyes were flecked with curiosity and amusement. "Explain, please?"
With a sigh, I sat up and faced him. "I love you," I said, "until death parts us."
His eyes lightened as he began to see my side.
"You understand now, don't you?" I whispered. "For me, that vow has always held the implication that love will stop because death separates us. But it won't. Ours won't stop just because we can't be physically near each other."
"'Set me as a seal upon your heart; as a seal upon your arm. For love is as strong as death, jealousy is cruel as the grave: the coals thereof are coals of fire, which has a most vehement flame.'"
I leaned over and kissed him. "Exactly."