THE WEDDING GUEST Eventually the sun will rise again. I’ve always believed that. Take a deep breath. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out. It’s not working. But I am strangely calm. The sun’s rays over me are warm but my sweat is cold and I can feel my left leg shaking, bouncing up and down in that way it does when I am unspeakably nervous. But I’m not nervous right now. I’m not upset. I don’t know how to name what I’m feeling but there is a deep pit in my stomach. It yawns opens and sinks deeper, burrowing deep into my organs, nesting behind my intestines. Mark is getting married. Today. I can see him from where I am. My specially rented hotel room has a balcony that overlooks the beach. The wind is cool up here and it helps chase away some of that yawning emptiness. I can see everything. The white linen flaps in the breeze and the strategically placed flowers rustle. She’s chosen blue - a dark blue, a little close to indigo, and bright yellow flowers. Peace, stabilit