Flash, no. 2

You can’t escape Grace, they told me. You’re made for each other.

It was good. Could hear the church organ blaring fortissimo, smell the flowers.

I left. Town, her, everything I knew. Mad scramble out west without a plan or clue.

On my back, on a woven blanket in cold Nevada desert, I gazed at the stars and found them mute. I found no answers.

I found out I missed her.

Came back chastened and ready, but I missed her.

I bring flowers to the stone every day.

Can’t escape Grace, they said.

They were wrong.

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