girl . boy.

they were getting married in the city registry, the one with the drab civil service chipboard walls and the pale peeling blue paint. the one with the tired floral arch with cardboard hearts and the word "Love" and whatever letters remaining of the original sentence above the desk.

he wore a black shirt and black trousers, a belt with a shiny buckle and leather shoes. he looked like he was on his first holiday job as a salesman at the neighbourhood mall. she wore a huge checkered maternity dress and looked even younger than that.

they took a number. they sat. they walked up to the counter when their number was called. they sat again. they answered questions. they said yes.


the baby-faced bride with the tribal tattoo crawling out the top of her maternity dress and up her neck. she pushed his head with a finger, playfully, with the hand that had the scorpion wrapped around the back. she smiled and smiled and smiled.