Emily Miller

The Hardest Decision

Competition for a husband had never been so intense. In the town, all but two ladies, a friend and myself, were already married. I was getting on in age, and I knew this was my last chance of finding a husband. One man left, two women available, the contest began.

Because of the unusual circumstances, we were to create a piece of artwork conveying our vision of matrimonial love. Based upon our paintings, the becoming, young gentleman would choose a wife.
My paintbrush touches the paper, creating the outline of a very simple house. Inside, a young man and woman hold hands, a symbol of unpretentious love.
Opposite me, my friend finishes her drawing. I glance at it and see a picture of a mansion with many glitzy cars and a shimmering swimming pool.
It is a tough decision. My image depicts our true love. My friend’s image depicts an affluent and wealthy union.
I contact my confidante, and ask for her critique of my artwork.
“Remarkable,” she utters. “It shows you deep passion for this man.”
Pleased by her critique, I proudly hand my finished painting to the receiving groom.
Simultaneously, my friend hands him her sketch.
Touched by the sensitivity of my painting, he grins with pleasure. He glances at my friend’s ridiculous doodle and is expressionless. The choice is his; the time is now. Whom will he marry?
After scrutinizing our masterpieces, he chooses the materialistic marriage to my friend.
Maybe when I go to kindergarten, marriage will be easier.


Copyright 2002-2007 Student Publishing Program (SPP). Poetry and prose 2002-2007 by individual authors. Reprinted with permission. SPP developed and designed by Strong Bat Productions.