We both had trouble, in our wedding vows, coming to the point. Our loved ones grew bored, threw pens at us, groaned when we kissed. Then we were pitched off to some squiggly beach, where the staff kept us half-asleep with drinks the texture of baby food, but ice-cold and walloping. The squat glasses sweated in our hands. And then we were back inside the apartment we already shared, tan and blinking.

Marriage has turned out to be a worsening of that return.

Our friends are impressed by how long we’ve managed to keep a straight face.

Years.

Read it in X-R-A-Y