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mutual respect based on the other’s preference. They agreed to meet again after one diurnal cycle, and a course of three meals consumed with other’s favorite instrument. That night, the Groom seated himself before a plateful of bow-tie pasta drenched in Alfredo sauce. He picked up the fork, bothered by its extra weight and its asymmetrical balance. He spun it around in his hand; it rotated only two-and-half times before slipping onto the table, where it clanged impatiently. The Groom picked up the fork, stabbed into the pasta, and put a morsel into his mouth. He felt his tongue cringe at the invasion of four cold spikes. The pasta slipped off the fork and down the back of his throat. He choked, whereupon the Groom reached for his glass of wine and downed it in one swig. Tears burned his eyes. The Groom threw the fork across the room, where it smartly embedded itself into a sofa cushion, and sloppily finished his dinner with a soup spoon. The Bride fared no better. She ignored her Cobb salad. Her stomach rumbled as she sat staring at the slim metal trident. The absence of a fourth digit made her light-headed. After 15 minutes of deep breathing, she picked up the offending fork and dug into her salad. As she placed the leafy morsel in her mouth, the 41

The Metric Issue 08 - Literary Magazine  
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