Small story of Gilbert and Elizabeta.
Thanks for reading!
She was beautiful.
The white lace dress fit her body perfectly. The sun lit up her hair in different hues of yellow, brown and red. She walked down the aisle between the chairs with her head high and the most beautiful smile on her face. Everything about her was perfect. Today was perfect.
And as for the awesome me? The sun was cooking me like an egg on asphalt. The suit didn't fit well, and I stood shaking. My hair was messy, as usual, and I hadn't slept well the night before.
But everything else was perfect. The flowers were lovely, the food would be awesome afterward, and it [thankfully] didn't rain and ruin the outside wedding. The guests were lively and cheerful, even though those metal chairs they were sitting in had to be cooking them too. No one was complaining though, because everything was perfect.
But as she passed by where I was sitting in the crowd of guests, it hit me.
This was it; she was getting married and becoming the proper ladyshe'd nagged about needing to be for a while. My childhood friend [and love] who used to run around getting dirty and play-attacking me was getting married, and settling down. And it killed me inside. But she was happy. And everything was perfect. That was all that mattered.