Disclaimer: Is my name on the contract? It is...n't?
I just wanted an excuse to write a piece based on this song:
Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. She should have known. He was bound to fall for someone.
Someone smarter and prettier and funnier.
Somewhere, in all the poems she had to memorize, there was something about unrequited love. Or a broken heart. Something to that effect.
She felt something in her chest, something behind her heart, pull.
I am having a heart attack.
Silly notion. She was not so very old.
Did anyone ever ask me if I wanted to be a princess?
Probably not. She tugged at her sleeves. The dress was pink, and she despised pink.
Pink was the sort of thing you wore a little of. Pink ribbons or pink bracelets. No one, and that included her, no one should be cocooned in the horrid color.
Her pseudo-heart attack subsided
I suppose the diplomatic thing to do would be to get married, and get married quickly.
She couldn't help feeling jealous of Andrea.
The one thing she wanted she couldn't have any more.
She grew up a princess; she was supposed to get everything she wanted.
Her heart threatened to burst out of her chest.
If she really loved him, she should be happy knowing that he was happy.
She knew she was getting sick; probably from sitting out in the rain hours after he had left.
The Countess had looked at her disapprovingly and hurriedly bid her to change into the hideous abomination she was wearing now.
If she had any expertise in the area, she would have said that her heart could be broken.
She wouldn't be too sure of the symptoms.
Poor girl.
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