I remember the last day as if it were yesterday. The morning began as perfect as a painting, with a peaceful sky smiling on the golden field. We held hands and ran to the secluded picnic site. You were thrilled with the impulsive bouquet I gave you, and my soul felt light with love.
You stumbled and I caught you, hoping your ankle hadn’t twisted, but that was the least of our problems. We both looked down at the same time and saw the bones sticking up from the dirt. Of course, we had to call the authorities, and then began not only the homicide investigation but also everyone’s inquisitive noses poking into our private business.
Reality roared into our relationship like a steamroller, and events collided so quickly it was hard to keep track of their sequence. You didn’t put up a fight as your husband repudiated your entire marriage and left with your children. I was forced to choose my own family over you, a decision I still question to this day.
No one really believed we were engaging in the dark arts of the cult that buried those bodies, yet our reputations suffered fatal damage regardless. People will always blame the woman more than the man in these situations, though it was I who seduced you. The guilt hangs heavy on my neck like a chain of stones.
All I can do is offer bouquets of wildflowers to your final resting place, as I remember better days.
~*~
Written for Mindlovemisery’s Photo Challenge 354.
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