Selma proposed to Goran while they were choosing a new ironing board. He held one end of a folded model while she tried to find the price. She thought she would like to marry the man who, for seventeen years, had remembered that a high ironing board suited her. She said so without kneeling. Goran asked whether she meant this year. When she nodded, he said he would prefer a Saturday so they would not need to ask for a day off.
They bought nothing then. They sat in a nearby cake shop and shared a slice that was too sweet for either of them. Selma expected the conversation to become serious, that she would have to explain what had changed. Instead, Goran asked whether she wanted flowers on the table. "I do," she said, surprised by how clearly she knew the answer. She also wanted music they usually turned down because of the neighbors, and a chance to see him wearing a shirt she had not chosen for him.
The news provoked an investigation among their friends and relatives. Her sister asked whether they had recently argued. His friend waved a hand and said marriage at their age was usually about paperwork. Her mother cried as though her daughter had spent all seventeen years standing outside and had finally been granted permission to enter. After the call, Selma told Goran she no longer felt like organizing anything. He brought a sheet of paper and wrote down nine names. "These people know how to turn up just to eat and celebrate."
Of course, it was not that simple. Before lunch, one guest still asked why they were doing it now. Goran looked at Selma, who was holding a bouquet of small yellow flowers. "Because we agreed on it now," he answered, passing the guests a basket of bread. Selma felt no need to add anything. Under the table she touched his shoe with the tip of hers. For the first time that day, their decision required no explanation longer than a single sentence.
After lunch they danced in the narrow space between the tables. Goran stepped on her dress and they both stopped to check whether the seam had held. Then she lifted the hem while he moved a chair to make room. People applauded when they started again. Selma felt this was the most accurate part of their wedding: the brief pause, checking the damage, and moving the furniture together.
On Sunday they returned for the ironing board. The saleswoman remembered them and said she had kept the model they had been looking at. Goran took the box and Selma the receipt. At home they ate the remaining wedding cake from soup bowls because the clean plates were still packed in a box from the previous day's lunch. Selma brushed a crumb from his chin. They were both wearing rings and old slippers.