Oblivion

He didn’t see her. Everyone else did. Not him. He saw a meal ticket as he stood at the altar watching his white gowned bride pass candles, glowing. The scent of sterling roses floated above her beloved friends and family, soaring with the best voices in her college choir. He saw arm candy, they, carrot-topped grace, unearned love and favor. A congregation of 200 Lutherans and 51 upwardly mobile witnessed her stare into his baby blues. Heard her uncertain, “I do.” Nearly forty years and he remained willing to squander resources on pipe dreams. Had she missed his “I don’t?”