Angela thought winter would be a great season to get married. The snow would decorate her hair, leaving little melting stars on its way. The cold dust on the ground would puff when she stepped upon it with her glimmering white heels. Absolutely perfect. Gill, on the other hand, preferred a fall wedding. Perfectly cool weather- not too hot and not too old. It seemed Angela was more the extreme weather type. Well, not extreme, but very distinct. She loved the summer and the winter more than any other seasons. For minutes, they sat describing the benefits of why their season would be better. It was a bit of a comical argument, as Angela would start laughing when she tried to be serious.

"But the winter would be so pretty! Snowflakes all around and everyone would be huddled in their coats! Besides, getting snow in your hair is much less annoying than getting leaves in your hair," she argued, "I'd have to pick all the leaves out of my hair that that would be done really nicely…"

"Yes, but you'd probably get sick from the cold again and end up sick on the actual wedding day." It was bizarre saying that phrase- wedding day. Never in his life had he imagined that he would marry so young; not that he cared. But the more he said it, the less strange it became. He was certainly relieved by that. His thoughts quickly shifted to his fiancée in a gown. In a wedding gown, no less. Sure, she had dressed up nicely for a few dates, but a wedding was no ordinary day. There was no doubt she would be even more beautiful than usual. The question was, how much more? It wasn't for about forty-five seconds that he realized he was staring into space, imagining the day.

Angela studied his face curiously. She wondered if he had fallen asleep with his eyes open- he did seem a bit distracted lately. Was he thinking about the special day like she was? Her jaw would draw when she saw him in a tux. She was a total sucker for men in tuxedos. She would walk slowly down the aisle and he would turn to her and smile. Her head was rested on her hands, and felt herself slowly wanting to dream even more about that magical day. Angela's head hit the table with a bit of a thump, but at that point, she was already asleep. She wished she would dream of the wedding every night until it finally happened.

Gill finally snapped out of his daze to find Angela snoozing with her head on the table. It was funny though- even when she was asleep, she had the ridiculously goofy grin on her face. He laughed quietly, and grabbed the blanket that was lazily strewn across her couch. Her face seemed to relax when he draped it around her, though it still held a faint smile. He used this time to look around her house. Not that he was snooping, but Gill was simply curious. The bed's blankets seemed to be tied in a knot. The sink was surprisingly clean however. Maybe it was because she bought all of her food ate at the inn to avoid mess. However, it was probably due to her inability to cook. Her bookshelf was disorganized, but full of books. Upon closer investigation, they were all storybooks; the classic ones. He felt an overwhelming urge to organize everything, but he decided against it. Angela had told him that she only knew where things were in her house if it was messy. She was organized in her own way, apparently.

He knew that he would give in to Angela's idea of a winter marriage. It wasn't that he was weak or henpecked, but he just couldn't say no to her puppy-dog eyes. He considered leaving a note and leaving, but something caught his eye. On her nightstand was a photo of the two of them together within a heart shaped picture frame. He picked it up gently to find it freshly polished, as if she had done it just hours ago. Putting it back down, he noticed a flimsy pink camera to the side of the nightstand. A fleeting thought shot across his mind. Yes, it was a strange thing to do, but it would be worth it. He snapped two quick Polaroid pictures of her rather droopy sleeping face and placed the camera down in exactly the same place, in the same position. After scrawling a note on the back, Gill slipped one of the pictures under her elbow and slipped out of her house quietly.

Angela awoke warmer than she had remembered. She sat up suddenly, and felt a shooting pain in her neck. Sleeping with her head on a table was definitely not a good idea. Massaging it gently, she picked up the picture and laughed quietly. She flipped the picture over to see the note he had written in what he had called his messy handwriting.

Angela,

You look weird when you sleep. Good luck with your neck.

Love, Gill.