'Some things I’d like to know about the many worlds interpretation of quantum mechanics' by Sam Payne

What if I hadn't been drunk on peach schnapps and lemonade and dropped my purse that night outside Nero's nightclub, would we have met anyway? What if you'd lost my number and never called the next day? What if we didn't share the same views on Brexit? Or hadn’t both thought that people who didn't like dogs couldn't be trusted? What if when you touched me my body hadn't turned to water? What if when you asked me to move in after six months, I'd said perhaps we should give it more time? What if we hadn't found the cottage by the estuary and the seller hadn't agreed to accept five grand below the asking price? Or perhaps it was something smaller, like if we'd picked the red sofa instead of the cream one? What if I'd planted roses where the daffodils grow? Would any of that made a difference? Would any of those choices set us on another path? What if we'd chosen the butterfly house instead of the church? Would you still be leaving me at the altar? In all of these other worlds, are there replicas of our guests staring in surprise? Or are there some who saw this coming? Does another version of the vicar know exactly where to look? And is my mum always crying? Does the confetti stay tightly wadded in small white boxes or does it drift on the breeze? Are the doves we ordered for the reception always scrapping? Or do we get to see them in flight in a bright blue sky? Tell me, please, is there a different outcome anywhere? Or am I always left standing there listening to the echo of your shoes as you walk the wrong way up the aisle?