by Bob Thurber
At my wedding reception, after I don't know how many drinks, I worked up the nerve to cross the room and speak to Jane.
She was seated at the worst table, alone except for a few coats. She said she could guess what I wanted because all night my eyes had been flashing wild and wacky signals.
"All night?" I said. "My eyes?"
"They're going crazy right now," she said.
She was grinning, but I couldn't tell if she was kidding.
"Find a mirror," she said. "You're missing a great show."
I heard my new wife and her entourage approach.
Jane raised her hand near her mouth, and pouted. She made the peace sign, rapid blinked her lashes and tweaked a tiny wave.
"Bye, baby. Be happy."
She blew a quiet kiss.
I clenched my lips and closed my eyes a moment.
Later my new wife wondered at that.
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