It had more to do with the groom’s father’s known involvement with the Mob.
Possibly irrelevant, but still, you never knew.
One of the bridesmaids later confided that the bride was taking antipsychotics.
It was over in a flash, leaving small girls in tears and an old woman shrieking uncontrollably.
A masked duo in black fleeces, holding automatic handguns.
But what had they actually seen, the guests, the wedding party, the families of the happy couple?
They had all been there.
Yet no one could tell the police how it happened.
The bride and groom lay bleeding on the floor.
Amy Ballard writes and teaches in a small town in southern Idaho, where her husband, three kids, a naughty corgi puppy, and too many cats keep her company. Her poetry has appeared in the online GNU Journal, and her fiction was most recently published in Penultimate Peanut. Find her online at www.amyballard.com or on her blog, https://christianteacherpublicschool.blogspot.com.
Maura Yzmore 