"Heads we get married; tails we break up."

Isn’t that what you said, rat face? Who does that kind of thing? Oh, sure it seemed cute then. You didn’t even let me call it. Now look where we are: standing in front of the congregation, me holding the flowers, you holding the ring, looking all pasty white faced, pink nosed, and terrified, like someone was holding a shotgun to your head (speaking of heads).

"Heads we get married; tails we break up."

Well, I’ve been ‘headed’ toward this altar all 19 years. It’s been waiting, waiting with a trap door and a chute, and just now I realized it.

There’ll be children and cheating, and cooking and cleaning. And fifty years on, with the toss of a coin, it’ll all be gone.

Um, what did you say?

Yes. I do.

Lynne Webster