She was sitting, a little overexcited, on the rented car's upholstered back seat. She was covered in layers of white chiffon and semi-vintage laces. Her head was adorned with silver hairpins that both clutched her hair into a tight, sophisticated bun and the veil of her long trail. She motioned the driver to go full speed – not caring if the bunch of white roses plastered on both the front bumper and the rear parts of the vehicle would fall and go to floral waste. She, finally, arrived just in time. Yet, people were still outside – anxious, impatient. She moved out of the narrow car space without much grace but dramatically. Her face reflected the happy sunrise but as she walked up the four-stair platform near the entrance, her parents met her with faces troubled...
She was sitting, a little too nervous, on the church's benches near the altar. Her make-up was smudged from crying, with hair askew and shoulders slumped heavily. Her mother was busily ushering the brow-furrowed guests into the reception area to amend for the wasted expectation. Her father, on the other hand, lighted as many cigarettes as he could to repress the impending outrage he would soon unleash. A man arrived at the door of the church, panting like a dog. He was not the one expected but every head present turned to him. The lady sitting near the supposed setting of a holy union stood up and ran to him. She covered the long distance in seconds, visibly eager. After a minute, she dropped to the floor...
She was sitting, a little too tired to stop crying, on her father's spacious car. She was dressed in black – as deep as alabaster. She wore dark tinted sunglasses though it was raining vehemently. She was shaking though the heater was turned on. Her parents both sat at the front with eyes on their only child. They arrived at the place where they were told to go. She saw the numerous white candles in their various holders; and, the numerous bunches of flowers and ferns on stands, complete with sashes that emblazoned words that blurred in her already wet and clouded vision. She walked forward into the vibrantly white rectangular containment that was draped with the national flag. She just stood and watched at the top's polished glass. She just stood and watched…her groom-to-be now her groom-not-to-be…
A/N: I've posted this story on FictionPress and here at Pen already. Although I wrote a few stories with similar genres, I think that this story is the best suited for this contest.
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