“Hey, Dougie.”
When I went to sit, I actually fell. Luckily, I didn’t drop my booze, just the rose I carried with it.
“Oops. I celebrated our pretend wedding anniversary today by getting drunk off my ass.”
I was as dizzy sitting as I had been standing up, so I tried going flat on my belly.
“There was no one else there to toast us,” I said once comfortable, “and no us to toast to, either, so I had to drink to myself over and over again.”
Cut grass kept finding its way into my mouth, so I flipped to my back to stare up at the dark, miserable afternoon sky.
“Look up for love. You said that, remember? I decided to pretend we got married that night…last night…early this morning…sixteen years ago. We ran off at eighteen and eloped. Screw my dad. This year…this year, we could go to Massacus
