He thought it must be a crime when he saw her. It was the way she was dressed, black spandex and a blouse that appeared at first glance to be made of feathers. Deep russet the color was but he couldn't help but to think of her as a bird, bright and small so he called her Canary.
“I still don't believe you fell in love with me on the day we met,” she said on their wedding night more then two years into the future. She admired the shape of his face in the blue light of the hotel room. He hugged her deeply and told her once again that it was true. Canary fidgeted with the love she knew she had and let her thoughts wander to the future. The children they would have and the home that they would make together. They would go to church weekly until their youngest was a teenager ridden with angst that they wouldn't be able to see and then they would begin slowly to feel free again.
Of course it wouldn't be all cream and peaches. There would be the affair he would have, a women he met at the office and then later at the health club. She would also discover that seaweed didn't cure cancer and felt the true meaning of pain when it had to be cut from her body.
And there was the accident, a dark night on a highway that had been pelted with rain. He was too eager to hurry home did not see the water upon the pavement until it was too late. And from one moment her happy family had been ripped and shredded by the tree planted next to the roadway to make it more beautiful. She would sit crying with the body of a child in her lap unable to do anything to stop the pain it would feel as it died.
He would simply clutch her body tighter, burying his face into her breasts as he recoiled from this knowledge. Surely to know such things would be criminal.
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