The Unceremonious Saturday
by Nico
· 20/12/2025
Published 20/12/2025 10:41
The software wants to know if I am head of a house
or just a name on a lease with a single checkbox
that feels like a trapdoor opening in the floor.
I found the suit in the back of the closet today,
the one I bought when we thought a Tuesday morning
at the courthouse was enough of a life together.
There is a flattened boutonniere in the pocket,
a dry, grey ghost of a flower that never saw the light
or a camera, just the dark of the wool and the cedar.
I still have the stack of envelopes in the junk drawer,
the adhesive gone yellow and brittle from the wait,
their mouths still open, never licked shut,
never holding the news of what we didn't become.