A white tablecloth draped over a table on the edge of the Grand Canyon. Bottle of wine and two place settings. Perfect location to ask her to marry me.
Although it's kind of dusty. And freaking hot. Even though it's sunset, it must be 90 degrees. I can't wait to see my beloved. If she can even Google Maps her way here. Her Mini Cooper summer tires may not be the best off-roading choice. I told her to wear something elegant which probably means high heels which will not go over well on this scorched and cracked desert floor. Oh, God - what if she got stuck? She's probably wandering out there in the desert, broken heels and dirty dress, cursing my name. Was that a coyote howl?
The sun is going down. At least it will be cooler. Too cool. Now she's gonna freeze to death out there and it's all my fault. When do the rattlesnakes come out? Is it daytime or nighttime? Or maybe I'm thinking of gila monsters.
Lori, I'll never forget you. It will be tough, with many weeks, no, months of mourning. But I'll find a way to carry on. To feel again. To eventually maybe even meet someone half as awesome as you were. Maybe that cute barista. We'll hit it off and date for a year or two (in your memory.) Eventually I'll realize she's the one. The second one, after you, of course. And I'll take her out to a romantic dinner to propose. Somewhere scenic and epic to show the grandeur of my love. Maybe Hawaii. Hmm, I wonder if I could get a table to the rim of a volcano.