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No Regrets

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The walls were pitch black so he hired Van Gogh to paint yellow stars on them for the occasion.

The ground was covered in sand, which according to him represented infinity.

I look over his shoulder. A comet shot through the sky of idle stars, a fiberglass cue striking balls in a snooker game. Disrupting the stillness of the panorama. With his strong arms locked around my back and his face buried in the nook of my left shoulder, he didn’t get to witness it.

Awed was I by the beauty of the comet. An image of my sister blowing out a candle before I made a wish on the comet flitted through my mind.

Next thing I knew, he asked for my hand in marriage and promised me all the red roses in the world.

I gave him a resounding ‘no’ for an answer.

No regrets.



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