The Bride in the Park
It's always nice to see something different if only to break the preoccupation that is pandemic to readers, who are often more mindful of what they've just read than the surroundings.
I was running around a city park that was mostly empty at 1:20pm on a sunny, 90-degree weekday, when suddenly I see a young girl alone, dressed in a wedding dress as bright as the sun.
This I hadn't seen before. Usually girls in wedding dresses are never alone but are like queen bees surrounded by bridesmaids fussying here and there, making minute adjustments to hair or gown. There's nothing more beautiful than a bride, let alone a June bride, but she looked distraught, pacing in the hot sun, not remaining still under the shade but pacing pensively.
After slowly making my way around the half-mile perimeter loop I saw she was still there, looking as forlorn as the waving girl statue who looks at the waves on the Savannah pier.
Her auburn hair clung against the sweat that lay between her shoulder blades and above her white bra - her one concession to the heat being to unzip the dress in the back down to just above her waist.
The mind creates drama where perhaps none exists for perhaps this was nothing more than an actress waiting for a ride to the venue of the play. But I imagined instead this to be a desperate elopement gone awry, the groom taking the advice of bachelor uncles in New England who'd counseled, "run, son. Run like the wind!"