Tragicomedy: Wedding Cake
by Destanee Moral
As I ran my fingers down his tombstone, I watched the cake smear. It was the same tradition we promised to do every year on our wedding anniversary, only this time, I was the one who had to fulfill it. Slowly, I allowed the memories to creep in, knowing too much too fast would ruin me. I could barely manage now, I didn't need devilish memories to join the hell I was in.
"Don't you dare!" I laugh.
"I'm not doing anything," He mocked innocently, using his hand as a spoon. Then, before I could protest, a piece of white wedding cake was smashed into my face. Quickly, I grabbed some cake of my own and shoved it into his face.
"See! You love it!" He yelled over the music and loud cheers.
"If only it was like this every year," I say jokingly, yet something in his eyes made me know that he had a plan. A plan he knew would make me happy and remember this day even more than I would already.
Shaking the thought away, I took the extra slice of cake I brought, from the container and set the paper plate on top of the grave. Slowly I stood up and blew one last goodbye kiss until next year, toward the very name I took sixty-two years ago. The very name I pledged my undying love for, and still to this day remained faithful to. For no other man could have the magic we shared years ago.
And it was as I walked away, did I hear the soft sound of footsteps. Turning around, I watched as a middle-aged man, in ugly torn clothes, took the cake in his grubby hands.
"Oh, Earth!" He shouted, looking up. "Another one this year! God himself loves me!"