There was blood on my pillow. Prom tomorrow and I was still bleeding from the tooth extraction. Four wisdom teeth removed. And I was off to prom.
My date was an ex-boyfriend. We were desperate for the quintessential high school experience. Desperate enough to hook back up again.
My dress was a hand-me-down. Less Pretty in Pink and more High School Reunion. I didn't know how to sew, so all I could do was attempt to cut off the ruffles. Blue taffeta--not my best color.
The handbag was from my grandmother. White sequin and plastic pearls. I tucked the syringe into the satin interior pocket. The syringe was for cleaning out the gaping holes left in my mouth after the extractions.
The dinner was duck l'orange. We kissed in the car on the way to the restaurant. He drove the family's minivan. No alcohol; we were both underage.
The conversation was weak. What will so-and-so be wearing? How drunk will so-and-so be? We had alread had all the conversations we were ever going to have. That's why we broke up.
He ordered a burger. And fries.
Excuse me, I said after dinner.
I took my white handbag to the bathroom and tried to syringe away the duck fat, the stifled words, the meaningless kiss.


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CraigTowsley about 11 years ago

the despair the narrator has is incredibly apparent. good job!

anikawriter (joined over 11 years ago)

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