No More Second Chances

The day I was finally supposed to marry Maria, the woman I' d loved for sixty years across two lifetimes, she died. Or so they told me.

I stood at the altar, waiting, while the Texas sun beat down on the small chapel.

Then her mother stumbled through the doors, face a mess of tears. "Matthew," she wailed, "There's been an accident. A terrible accident."

"She's gone," her father choked out. My world tilted. How could she be gone? We'd loved until we were old and gray in our past life, then woke up young again, a gift. Now, it felt like a curse.