A woman leaves her husband jilted at their wedding.
She sped away. The tires kicked up clouds of sand and dust. In the rearview mirror, she saw the folding chairs, the billowing white fabrics of the tent, and the shocked faces of the wedding guests.
Why now? She asked herself, why hadn’t I ended this sooner? Why hadn’t she run when he proposed or when she was being fitted for a beige wedding dress?
She thought she had moved on. I wish he was here with me. Her throat thickened. Before she could stop herself, tears flooded down her cheeks. Grief pierced her stomach like a bullet. She placed an arm over her stomach to quell the pain.
She thought of his body swaying back and forth as the tide receded, boots rushing over him as bullets flew past. Or had he made it the shore? Had he trudged through the sandy beach? Had he fallen while tending to a brother?
She remembered the day. It was sunny, but their was a chill. The telegram arrived. His mother collapsed into her arms. They cried together.
The road quivered beneath the scorching sun. The heat toasted her skin. Layers of moisture gathered beneath the fabric. She wiped away the beads of sweat from her face and drove through the jagged mountains.
She looked to the rearview mirror again. Black mascara stained the skin around her eyes and behind her was the wedding, now just a sandy haze.
WordPress daily post prompt: Second Thoughts