Damsel in the red dress
The frozen night gnaws at my face like it hasn’t eaten in days, alive with a bouquet of red currants, and fanfare. The smell of perfume slips silently out of the after-party and down the spiral staircase, escaping through the closed door in lusty drafts like a flower garden on steroids. Our footsteps echo - too loud in the crowded, solitary parking garage. Everything feels amplified tonight, and yet far away - like I’m listening to - reaching out and existing through a glass wall. The click of my high-heels on the concrete… The heartbeat of the alcohol in my bloodstream…
She - I stand shivering in the burning red cocktail dress we rented just for the occasion as Kattar makes a ceremony out of opening my door.
The late November chill sits palpably thick in the car like we’re bathing in evaporated ice water. On other days I would fret the gooseflesh on my shoulders something awful, silently bemoaning the seconds it takes Kattar to slide into the driver’s seat and close his door, but I told myself I wouldn’t let anything ruin today. I still might ask him for his jacket, and if I do, I’d better do it sooner than later, cuz I know he’ll never relinquish anything without teasing me for an hour and a half first. We’ll either be frozen or back at the hotel, by then.
I study the parked cars outside my window, dip-dyed in Darkness that seems to lob them in half beneath the shadow of the overhangs. The yellow lights in the garage are few and far between, casting a dangerously sleepy hue over everything. I feel so sluggish it grates on me - wishing I was exploding with energy - feeling as excited as I know I should be right now.
Today was the happiest day of my life, in a dull sort of way. Perfect in muted color.
