Asher cupped his brows, squinted
past a light that he couldn’t comprehend,
and opened his eyes
because colors didn’t pixelate
the way they had before he met Ellie.
If Asher found love, the sign would arrive
if the moon formed into a sliver.
Then he’d know the woman God
had in store for him was before him.
Asher went on a blind date
for coffee, a walk, and a talk.
A friend from work said
he had this friend,
who could use a friend.
That was a polite way
of urging Asher not to grow old alone.
The hickory trees had shed
gold and brown leaves,
crunching beneath their shoes,
as they small-talked and walked
with a latte on the Greenway.
Steam lifted from the brim
as she sipped it,
and he knew she was hot.
Asher blushed before he begged
the redness to flee his skin.
The neatly trimmed grass
met the concrete
for couples to move along
whooshing the Yakima River.
Ellie pointed at an empty bench.
Asher agreed to sit with her.
Ellie brushed off the seat
before she sat.
Asher brushed off his seat, too.
He had a habit of caring about
what people thought of him.
But Ellie didn’t care what people
thought of her, or thought of him.
The river rippled, and stars
broke through the clouds,
the moon a sliver of its former self.
Asher smiled.
Ellie tucked her long, dark bangs behind her ear.
Asher moved closer and spilled his coffee.
He said, “God, that’s hot!”
Ellie’s eyes danced as she held her hand over
her mouth and laughed.
Asher stole the awkwardness
of its hope to spoil the moment.
Asher moved, touched her neck,
tilted his head, slid his hand
to her cheek, and kissed her.
First last kisses are the best.
“Forever,” Ellie said five years later.
“And ever,” Asher said, lifting her veil to kiss her forever.