The engagement is full of last times
The last night in the first apartment, the one with the radiator that clanked. The last Sunday coffee run before anyone called you husband or wife. The last drive home from the tasting, arguing about the cake and laughing about it before the freeway.
None of them announced themselves. You were too busy with the guest list to notice they were endings.
Forever doesn't start at the altar. It starts in these ordinary months, and they go faster than any other part of the story.





