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How many years can be forgiven?
How many calls can be ignored?
How many hours must be spent waiting,
For you to walk through my door?
She crumpled up the lyrics and threw it at the dustbin. The tequila guaranteed a miss, but the physical action put an exclamation point on her frustration. Tired, defeated, unable to keep writing, her head hit the desk and her eyes fluttered shut.
“Honey….?”
She pulled herself up and let out a gasp as the pain ran through her neck. Drool-crust coated her chin and a broken shot glass ground into her bones.
“What???”
“We have to go. The wedding is at 2:00” Her voice was soft an comforting.
As the third bridesmaid she knew that already. She quickly dressed, drove, and collected the petticoats from the seamstress. “Too much taffeta” she thought.
She arrived at the converted artist’s loft at noon and found the bride at the dressing table looking radiant.
They held each other close before she kneelt and slipped the petticoats under her gown. Unable to resist, she kissed her intimately. “Perhaps a belated gift is in order…”
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