Unfortunately, I do believe Atlas and Rosalyn were destined to conclude as a Shakespearean tragedy might from the very beginning, They were perfection and therefore wholly unattainable and entirely fiction.
From the flawless beginning to the bitter end, I believe it to have always been known within out little group. A tug in my gut during the most blissful of moments, a sickness creeping up my throat at the most exciting of events.
The wedding- The catalyst, we begun to think of it- was held intimately during a spring in Florence. I was not in attendance, nor was Linney. This, of course, was years before we came together. Then, Atlas and Rosie truly referred only to the pair. Though not a soul knew them then. They weren't Atlas and Rosalyn Carraway yet, after all. It would be another six months before Rosalyn found success in their first publication and two years before Atlas secured funding for his first film. Then, they only had each other. I doubt they needed anything else, if I am to be honest.
If there was film of the affair, I never laid eyes on it. In fact, I would scarcely be aware of it's happening if not for inebriated word of mouth. I, myself, have never graced the aisle and therefore I have never known the joy of the act, but by Rosalyn and Linney's account, there is nothing quite like it.
