D. Paul Yeuell

Driving back from the beach after a morning paddle, full of endorphins and audacity, I thought of the first time I saw her at a downstairs jazz joint, the first time we slow danced or held hands at a movie, and though this was long before the tide cleared the beach of our wedding decorations, before the miscarriage swept away our child, before the elevator bore us down from the divorce lawyer’s office, long before all that, even then I knew, she’s got good to me; ain’t never gonna be the same again. 

D. Paul Yeuell is a writer living in California.

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