Drabble 92

Clara was glued to the pew, ass numb thanks to the hard wood. She dared not move a muscle, dared not draw attention to herself. She wasn’t dressed for a wedding, but the moment she saw the sign on her way out of town, well, she couldn’t help it.
“Kettering-Jones”. She felt nauseous. And before she knew it, Clara had pulled her aging Altima into a parking spot.
He’d found someone. Of course he did. Randy was going places,a rising star shooting across the sky. Clara? Well, she was barely a blip on the radar. He could have anyone, Mr. Rich, Hilarious, and Classically Handsome. He wasn’t an Adoni, but a playful Pan. Of course, he’d pick the plucky Kate Jones to be his. She was the epitome of a lady.
Clara, well, Clara was just an artist.
The Wedding March began, she strained her head to look at the altar, but there were too many heads and hats in the way.
Doors swung open and she averted her eyes from the vision in white, missing the shocked look the bride’s escort had shot her.
Before long she managed to glance up. She had to see the kiss. Clara had to erase him from her mind. She had to move on.
And it was a beautiful kiss. A lovely couple.
But to her surprise, Randy was standing to the side, as one of the a groomsman. And he was staring right her.

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