The sun snuck off in the middle of dinner like a hot narcissist who would not be missed.
A new moon sky in Saxapahaw is deep and long—it is the world’s most endless sky!
The bride and groom were my friends. I loved them, their beauty was as long as this sky.
I had never seen two people smash glass as gleefully as they did, as tearfully, as swiftly.
Gradually the marquee emptied itself of everything but the remains of their delicious cake.
The barman recognised me; I recognised the October smell of fields cooling.
Around me, my private disappointments flopped in disarray. I struggled to tuck them in.
The broomsedge and meadow fescue formed a barrier at the edge of our clearing.
This wall of wild grasses was lit up by the bonfire.
I had conversations with two or three other people for whom things had not worked out.
At the end of the night we danced near the fire like people who once loved dancing.
KATHERINE MEEHAN lives in Reading. Her work has appeared at The Moth, The Kenyon Review, Lunate and others. She holds a master’s in Creative Writing from the University of Oxford.