Ficly about some last-minute regret.
Five or six reasons that what I’m doing is justified. That’s what I want, sitting on this rock hard couch in the hotel room with the gold curtains that don’t match anything. The thousand dollar tuxedo that’s hugging me like a rented friend doesn’t seem to help, and neither does staring at the little velvet box with the ring inside.
Diamond. I bought an eight hundred dollar nick-nack for a girl I’m not really in love with. If the first anniversary is paper or cotton or something mundane like that, maybe I should have bought a ring made with glue and sand for the wedding.
I can’t believe I actually went out and bought it, so I look at the receipt for a while, like the “Have a Nice Day!” slogan at the bottom will help me get a grip.
I grab the pad with my speech, which reads more and more like an acceptance for an Oscar every time I look at it, wondering how ridiculous it is that I haven’t memorized it. I flip to a fresh page on the yellow legal and scrawl on the top, “Five Good Reasons I Have Left.”
Originally on Ficly: http://ficly.com/stories/16111