Wednesday, June 09, 2004

I was in the rear passenger seat of an Aviator. I checked my make-up in a compact. Soft pink lips. Sweet powdered skin. I looked up. We were headed over the bridge. It was marshy. I was incredibly nervous.

My phone vibrated and lit up, but didn't ring. I looked around. No one noticed. The incomming call was from "Comptroller." I don't now recognise that word, but I knew then that it was Christopher. I wispered his name under my breath. The phone died down. He must have hung up.

I looked in the cargo hold of the Aviator. I frowned.

"Where's my dress?" I asked, pawing through everything. "Where's my dress???" I asked again more frantically as the other girls in the car began to turn around.

"Where the hell is my wedding dress?"

Turns out we'd forgotten it. I began to cry. I knew everyone would be pissed at me. I knew it. We got to the site and I ran to my daddy. He hugged me and said it'd be all right. He got in the car and drove back to my house to get my dress. I ran to my fiance. I cried and apologized for screwing everything up. He hugged me. He kissed me. He told me that it would all be okay.

And it was.

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