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This writing was accepted for publication in the 108-page perfect-bound ISSN#/ISBN# issue/paperback book “Blackbirds, Lyrebirds, WeaverBirds” cc&d, v340, the 12/23 issue Order the 6"x9" paperback book: 
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Let Us Begin
Bill Tope
He gazed adoringly at her in repose, dressed in her finest raiment. Extra care had been taken with her makeup; he was impressed. She had never looked so pretty, welcoming, and sexy. From across the room, she seemed somehow unapproachable, though she spoke to everyone and touched their hearts with her sweetness. He wanted to be near her, but not to crowd her. This was her moment in the sun—to bask in the adulation of everyone who knew her. There would be time for him after the ceremony.
She looked demure, but God, how beautiful! His wife has been his for ten years now, and she looked not a day over twenty. Her blond hair flowed carelessly below her shoulders, and the broach he’d given her for their first anniversary wrapped delicately around her slender neck. Should he go now or wait?
The crowd around her had slackened; he would whisper how much she meant to him. Moving forward, he felt almost as if he were stepping into a dream. A few more paces, and he would be at her side, claiming her as his one and only, his lover, his wife. She watched as he approached and looked down modestly. He wanted to kiss her. With fevered lips, he felt her stone-cold skin and came back with a little of the mortician’s rouge on his lips. With a handkerchief, he brushed it away and withdrew to his seat so the funeral service could begin.
