The Marriage Card

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It was sudden and electric.

Green eyes boring into brown, brown eyes boring into green, a decade of future instantly conceived between them in the minutes it took for their eyes to find each other and their hands to shake.

She looks down at her feet as shy smiles are exchanged.

They had gelled, a feat rarely achieved by all the soulmate seekers that had come before them. Their partnership would be sweet, they would want it and it would want them. They would not have to have to waste time trying to force feelings of like from absolute strangers, because unlike many others that would find themselves in that room, they were meant to be.

The moment the priest had said, “Pick your card and find your woman,” he had prayed that he would click with whoever had his colour of card. Frantic eyes had searched the crowd of women flashing the cards they had picked only moments before; their own eyes eager for the men that would be their partners.

He had fought his way through his contenders to pick this card, one of the very last of them lying on the ground, all the while hoping that his bleeding head would not be for nothing. Some less fortunate had been battered and bruised with no cards to show; others had found cards that would be the only ones of their colour.

He reaches for her hand and catches her sad smile. Does she not feel the same?

And then he hears the words spoken behind him,

“Thank you for holding my card, Omo.”

Through the tears that form in his eyes, he sees her give the card away, and sadly he turns to the real owner, leaving the cardless girl behind.

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