Resfeber

The doors are about to open. She can hear the violin music soaring just beyond the doors in the sanctuary. A crowd of people await, ready to stand the moment they see her. But she doesn’t even think of them. She just thinks of him, waiting at the end of the aisle, waiting for her. She wonders if he is smiling or crying or both. She looks at the coordinator, anticipating the signal. Her white dress is flawless, the flowers in her hand are perfect.

She grasps her father’s arm. The doors swing wide and they begin to walk forward.

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