Broken.

He looks down at his empty finger, at the indent only visible to himself. He doesn't care. He pushes thoughts of her away to the place where memories fester. Tonight is about himself, old friends, and good times. Wedding guests are littered in campers and tents around the small town hall. This town feels safe, as memories which are often left behind with childhood, dance in the air like morning fog. He had spent the evening reliving his youth, careless, free, and dancing with anyone in sight. There are no consequences tonight, life is reduced to instinctual simplicity, and all that matters is the sweet taste of the drink and the beautiful drug induced numbness now clouding his brain.
He Inhales deeply, her floral, sweaty, scent washes over him, carnal desire taking over. It happens naturally without effort, that's what's most exhilarating about it. His hands curve around the shape of her hips, round and soft, new; her hands nervously exploring the curvature of his muscular back. Visions of "more" tangle themselves around her consciousness, a crystallized future with a perfect stranger.
Moments from the hour before flash like heart beats.
His arm around her, camera flashes, laughter, drinks, his friends surrounding them. No one speaks of it; no one even dares think it.
He's pulled back to the present as her fingers become lost in his hair. She pulls him towards her, lips wet, soft, different. She's not beautiful, she's plain and plump but feels like a faraway island, untouched, waiting, exhilarating. And in that moment his drunken stoned heart relinquishes it.
Passion coursing through his body, intoxicating tingles, hands, breath, lips, he’s not felt this way in a long time. A scream shatters through the silence, so loudly he's sure she can hear it. It cries "stop! You're married" but it's too late.
She's already broken.