Vow By Rebecca Hazelton

They were not traditionalists. They could bear the innovation of plot. They could not wait to landscape the plot. They had plans for a bed of pansies because pansies hardly ever die in a cold snap, because pansies are hardy despite the name. When they shovel the trowel into the soil it was with his hand on the handle and hers adding force.

They knew there were only nine types of people in the world and they knew which ones would close the deal. They knew the shirkers by sight. They had options. They knew about Required Communication. About how I feel and you feel. When there was a question of who did the dishes and who did the cat box, it was settled in-house and never required an outside contractor.

But the pansies got stem spot, leaf rot, and mildew. When they looked at their options it seemed there weren't really that many after all. They swore to uphold the bonds and the principles and the yelling. They swore to oral sex. They dressed to the nines and they walked the aisle. They stood up and received the standard narration.