The jilted husband made another circuit around River-Run.
He was still wearing their ring --he looked down at the rocks
she sat for pictures with yellow flowers braided in her hair.
One round was about a quarter-mile --he was on his 15th with
each step being a penance; his fuming mind, his priest.

He reclined on a picnic table in the center of the circuit,
exhausted from grief, sorrow...

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