Equinox

The road goes east again. The rain has stopped but the night is blacker than before. Conversations are lower, slower, the remains of a late night and an open bar weigh on our senses. Counting the hours to home, counting the hours to Monday morning.

The church was enormous, a canopy of ancient valves and stained-glass windows, we only filled the first few pews, the brides like tiny figurines at the altar. They stood nervously fidgeting, stealing glances and keeping a somber face. A steady voice trembled at the piano, it echoed through the giant church, the moved congregation, and I was glad no one could see my eyes quiver. There is weight in the moment of forever, it gets you every time.

The party was long, we stayed till the end and laughed in the taxi and fell on the floor. They left earlier, their life brand new, their dreams official.

When you've promised forever,
forever can't start soon enough.