Chairs were stacked haphazardly on the pavilion deck instead of being lined up in measured rows on a rose petal strewn patch of beach at the foot of the boardwalk. A morning rain was his excuse for the delay, when in truth there was no bride.
His flung his tuxedo jacket over the legs of an upturned chair. Pacing across the worn, wooden floor, he worried at his tie, loosening the noose it had become.
Whispers from the few attendees who stayed were like annoying mosquitoes buzzing around his head.
Maybe she was serious about not marrying him after all.