The Northern Bird No Longer Nests on the Southern Branch

After I woke from a vegetative state, Patrick and I held our wedding again. The little flower girl pulled out a ring box, took out the snap poppers inside, and hurled them at me. "I don't want a nasty woman like you stealing my daddy!" The poppers struck my wedding dress, one sharp crack after another, until they faded into little flecks of ash. Stiffly, I turned to look at Patrick.