The woman shuffled to the left, she shuffled to the right and then to the left again. A neighbour tapped her, they conversed, then she finally decided to let her handbag slip off her wrist and she entered the isle on her right. The neighbour was the last person sitting on that end of the bench. L threw back his head. He wondered on how they make you yearn and yearn for the end of such long services. Suddenly, he noticed that the benches on his left were emptying. “Wow we’re finally leaving” he thought. He imagined that the bride and groom were ahead, leading the way out. Then the benches in front of him began to fill up again, strangely, the people began to reappear. When he looked behind, he saw the loop by which they were returning. Did they just go up to shake hands with the couple? Bride and groom had never left; they were still seated in front. The old woman inched back into the bench in front of him. She was short dark woman with a slight hunch and a pointy nose, a sweep of gray hair under her gele to complete the gracefully aged appearance. With the gentle wobble of old people, she scooped up her handbag and sat down. On the screen above, L saw the offering bag and people stretching their arms over and out of it. “Oh, that was only the collection” he thought “this service still has a long way to go”.
When the couple finally said their vows, he honestly thought it was the third time they’d done that. In fact, when he first entered the church, the bride and groom were standing in front of the bishop, words were being said between them but L wasn’t paying attention.
…continued in Guns at a Wedding