Losers Weepers (Friday Flash Fiction)

She did her best to blend in.

She slipped into the chapel without a sound and chose a seat in the back corner, hoping she was hidden from view by the vast flower arrangement nearby.

She shouldn’t be here. She was infringing.

But when she heard he’d be here, she couldn’t help herself. She had to see him one last time.

She tried not to think about how long it had been since they’d parted ways.

Since he’d confessed his undying love for her.

Since she’d turned him down.

Not a day passed when she didn’t think of the fervency in his eyes, or the sadness that filled them when he realized she didn’t love him.

At least, she had been pretty sure she didn’t love him. After all, he didn’t really fit into the plans she had for her life. He was a homebody. She yearned for travel. He was an insurance salesman. She longed for adventure. He wanted a quiet country home. She needed the sounds of the city.

But as time went by, she doubted her decision.

And he’d moved on. Chosen another.

She caught a glimpse of his bride at the front of the church, tears forming in her eyes as she gazed at his peaceful face.

She was far too late to change what had happened, and now she was breaching trust by being here. She knew if any of the family members saw her, they’d be riled for sure.

She saw how handsome he still was after all these years and caught a glimpse of what her life might have looked like. Peaceful. Contented. Happy.

But it would never be.

She stiffened as the preacher stepped to the stage.

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to mourn the passing of a great man.”