The Best Man

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There are thirty minutes before the ceremony, which is too much time and not nearly enough.

The other groomsmen have already drifted out, jackets buttoned, nerves managed, smiles practiced. Someone clapped Shep on the shoulder on the way out and said something about how good he looked. Someone else asked me if I had the rings. I said yes, because I do. They’re heavy in my pocket in a way that feels symbolic enough to be annoying.

Now it’s just the two of us.

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