Soul Sever

"Will you marry me?"

I remember laughing just a touch at the absurdity of the question from my perspective.

I open my mouth and truth demands dissonant echo, heard here and all around all at once.

"No." "Yes."

I meant it. 

Just like that soul and form sever, with a step two separate, a simple procedure with skilled surgeon and prime rib. A fiance kisses her man, and I wait patiently to congratulate my brother, still chuckling a little at how ridiculous this will be to explain, but how great a story it will be at parties.

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