The ride to the city office was short. Miles and I went straight to the window booth, where a city clerk waiting for us. Miles brought out the papers-out from the envelope containing the unsigned marriage license certificate. The middle-aged clerk lady behind the glass window was ogling him. I knew he was so used to this attention; I just don’t feel comfortable being beside him when people did that.
“Hi, these are the papers we want to sign today,” Miles said as he handed the papers in the small gap window of the booth. The clerk smiled widely as she took and checked the documents.
“Okay, this is good. Do you have the necessary requirements with you?” she asked, sliding a small piece of paper out the window containing the list of requirements we have to accomplish
