A Bright, Alternative Courthouse Wedding

An Excerpt:

The two lovers are such opposites.

The analogy of apples and oranges can’t be applied, even if Connie and Marsha are both fruits.  They’re different, not in a black and white kind of way, but in a rainbow trout versus the Louvre kind of way. Made of totally different materials, different atoms and cells, but something out of this world brought them together. 

Marsha argued that Vonnegut would have paired them, that their love was abstract or post modernist. She’s an academic, scribbling with bubblegum pink pens and bunny-eaten book pages. She used to always use legitimate bookmarks, keeping things clean and well kept.

Then she met Connie. 

Meeting Connie is like being greeted by the energy of a child dragging unmatched socks across a carpet. When Connie reaches out a hand, her spark is at you in a cut second.

For Marsha, this spark lit a fire in her, and you can see it in the way they move beside each other.

Years ago, Connie had told her, “Fold the corners. Write your notes. Leave things feeling loved.”

Since then, as Marsha tore through books, she left her kiss on them, like how every day from now on, she will leave her kiss on Connie.