wedding-flowers

All For You

The man in the frock signed the cross.

I despise you. You smell sour, like a filthy rabbit hutch.

Faces encircled her. Father glowed, mother stared ahead, her sisters daunted.

She rubbed her swollen belly, felt handcuffed to her destiny.

He grinned yellow fangs.

Maria answered the questions.

“I now pronounce you husband and wife.”

 

Bob J Quinn