My handwriting on the front, folded once.

I read mine out loud, and my voice went flat in the middle, where I had crossed out a line and left the crossing-out showing.

Ethan didn’t read his.

He said his looking right at me, one thing about a Tuesday in March, and then he stopped.

“That’s all I’ve got.”

“That’s enough,” the officiant said.

“By the power vested in me by the state of Rhode Island, I pronounce you married.”

Ethan kissed me, and somebody in the back row clapped once, and the cello came in behind us.