Author's Note: I haven't written chlark in ages. This is the smalest ficlet I've ever written. Enjoy! Maybe I will be inspired to write more...
Chloe estimated the weight of her dress to be at least fifty pounds—or at least that's what it felt like. Not once during her childhood fantasies that involved throwing a bed sheet around her shoulders and playing the blushing bride did she imagine how heavy the real deal could be. Not even during the giddy planning phase of her engagement did she realize what a burden the dress of her dreams would become. After all, they all looked like frothy, floating confections of lace and tulle in bridal magazines, perfect for gliding like a fairy over the dance floor. And during her fittings her adrenaline took over; she was unable to feel the weight of the layers of underskirts and beaded silk duchess satin, and even agreed enthusiastically as the seamstress insisted on adding extra length to the train for dramatic effect.
But now, with the ceremony over, the reception starting, and the long day wearing on, she could feel it. She could feel the straps cut into her shoulders and the boning from the corseted top threaten to impale her lest she move a certain way. It was beautiful, but it was pure torture.
Chloe wanted more than anything to tear it off, to leave her perfect dream of a dress in a heap of beads and shredded fabric on the dance floor. Then she would take a candle from the table and set in on fire to the cheers of tortured brides everywhere.
But as the band started playing their song—Perfect Memory—and she was led out for her first dance as a married woman, the heaviness subsided. As Clark wrapped his arms around her and whispered "I love you Mrs. Kent" into her ears she felt lighter than air and as comfortable as being wrapped in a cozy, old bed sheet.