Perception
May 11th, 2016 by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
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The night sky was the underside of a felt baldachino; the tower an ornate column; and the church main an altar for some expected giant: bold and bright against the diffuse starlight.
She wasn’t sure about the floodlights now.
“You going in or what?” Frieda tended towards the curt. “I’m happy either way.”
“Um–”
“Night wedding because he looks better in the dark?”
“Mum!”
“That laneway he knocked you up in must have been pitch.”
“MUM!”
“Twice your bloody age.”
The eighteen-year-old eased out of the limo’s back seat, wondering if the weight she felt was really just the baby.
From Guest Contributor Perry McDaid
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