I never thought that a single sheet of card stock could hurt me so bad. It stung my fingertips, and it crawled up my palm, onto my forearm, where my wrist had ink engraved into it. The pain spread through my body like a thick, boiling hot sap in my veins, until I started to feel sick.
I threw the card to my desk, and stood up. If I cleared my thoughts from all the stress from work, I'd be able to read what it really said, not what I hallucinated it to be. I gingerly picked up the card again and held it close to my face, only to see the thing I feared most.
We invite you to join us to celebrate the wedding of Brittany S. Pierce and Bradley Malloy.
It couldn't be happening. No. I'd wake up any minute now to find myself sitting on your roof with my fingers intertwined as we bathed in the moonlight. I'd listen to your soothing voice talking about the house we'd buy, and the kids we'd have. I'd be buzzed on the alcohol we had taken from your parent's liquor cabinet, but it wouldn't matter, because I'd understand every single word. Just like old times.
Everything we had sketched out was gone. The Future we thought we'd share was nothing but a memory lost in the past. I wondered if you even remember that we planned everything. Well, almost everything. I never planned that someday I'd be losing you.
As unfortunate as the thought may be, I decided I had to go to your wedding. The mere thought brought me to tears; I could just see your white gown framing your slender figure as you took each step down the aisle.
"Ms. Lopez, not to rush you but the meeting you must attend starts in five minutes." My assistant, Ryan, alerted me.
"I'm their boss, they can wait. But first, I need a ticket to-" I glanced down to look for where it would be held. "Philadelphia, for December 5."