I remembered a comment he had made when things were at the end. "At least they have some kind of spark, unlike us."
I thought about that on the way to the train. My heels made a satisfying clunk, clunk, clunk on the sidewalk as I walked.
I had said, "You can't tell me your parents feel exactly the same way about each other as they did when they got married. Love changes." I know that's how it went, because I just re-read the emails. I wonder when I'll delete them.
Clunk, clunk, clunk: I can't imagine what else but a spark would make me impulsively marry someone within a week of being asked.
Clunk, clunk, clunk: Paperwork.
I didn't care about a dress. I didn't care about a bouquet. I didn't care about having my hair done. I didn't care about a cake. Kellie cared. Kellie made sure I had those things.
I'll never say it meant nothing, but I think I will concede this point. Perhaps they did have some kind of spark. Unlike us.
Now I have a spark in my hand. This spark acts differently; I'm a little bit afraid of it. Probably, that's exactly how I should feel about fire.