Dusty's Wedding, Part III

“The limo should be getting here soon, Tom. Don’t worry.”

“Well, there’s a lot of people milling about and your sister is driving me crazy. So hurry up, babe.”

“Ugh, don’t call me that, you know I hate it, Tom.”

“Yeah, I keep forgetting. Sorry.”

Hanging up, she crossed the floor and went to look at herself in the mirror that hung on her wall. Her dress swirled around her ankles, her red hair shone against her bare shoulders. She wore a blue charm of a dragon on the bracelet that hung from her slender wrist, part of the whole something borrowed, something blue tradition. For good luck. Dusty was a big believer in luck and superstitions. Whenever a black cat or a ladder stood in her way, she turned around, crossing herself.

Dusty stared at herself in the mirror until her face became distorted into shapes that veered before her line of vision. She blinked and her face surfaced clear once more. The doorbell rang. The limo was here. And soon she would be no longer Dusty but a bride.

This story has no comments.