I got the officiant.

I got the groom’s face at four separate points.

I got the wrist.

I got the moment where he turned around to watch her come up the aisle, which is the one I have never been able to look at since and which a lawyer described, in a room, as demonstrative of state of mind.

And I got the vows.

Reverend Lyle Pettibone asked a man whose passport I had renewed in 2023 whether he took this woman, and that man said I do in the voice he uses when he is pleased with himself, which is slightly lower than his ordinary voice, and which I had heard on a Tuesday two weeks earlier when he came back from the airport and found I had fixed the gate.