I Ask the Passing Years for an Old Poem

Four years after I ran from my wedding, I bumped into my ex-husband in the kids' play area at the mall. He stood there alone, his eyes fixed on the little girl beside me with her hair in two pigtails. Daisy was holding up a lollipop, waiting for me to help her unwrap it. My hands froze on the wrapper. "Jill Sullivan." He crouched down, looking at Daisy, his eyes red.