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I got chatting to a guy in his early fifties, he offered to pick me up, as I was hungover I wasn't feeling my usual self and agreed. I quickly got some clothes on and went to meet him where we agreed.He opened the car door, I looked at him extremely nervous but he reassured me we wouldn't do anything I wasn't comfortable with.He wasn't anything special to look at and had a bit of a beer belly. Once in his car he said he was going to take me to his shop as its closed and no one would disturb us, I meekly agreed, we made idle chat on the way, took us about five minutes to get to his shop.The shutters were down, so he had to open them. I looked around thinking people might see me going into his shop, but there was no one around. He told me to walk through to the back as he had a sofa through there. I walked through to the back as he asked me, I then sat down on the sofa. He quickly followed me in, he sat down next to me and put his hand on my thigh.He asked how I felt, I told him I was. I can still remember the echo from the high-domed enclosure as my voice quivered in fright and nervousness. Those damn words, and how my wife's voice was very steady and sure, as she spoke up.Marie looked beautiful, gorgeous, angelic. I was in love. The dress she wore was white, virgin white, very unbecoming especially after the nights we had enjoyed in the months leading up to that day. The veil concealed most of her pixy face but some of her long wavy blonde hair was revealed in the back. I was the luckiest man alive.Or at the time, I, and everyone who sat in that hot spring wedding, thought so.That was a year go.In fact, it is our anniversary today. A glorious day - one full year of love and happiness. Three hundred and sixty four days we had lived and shared our lives together. Our life seemed perfect, our marriage solid, and our happiness glorious.We made love on our wedding night with hurried passion, as if this long awaited wedding was simply a dream. The next day, in a small.
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