"A painstakingly aesthetic diversion for undemanding teenagers."
"Excuse me?"
In which an unapologetically brutal film-critic pisses off the CEO of a production company. Without a second glance or a single apology but blissfully with both middle fin...
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"Doesn't the bride look absolutely magical?"
"I know. That dress nearly made me faint, I heard the groom had an original piece specially made for her from fan-freaking Paris. Paris! Can you believe that?"
"Oh, I believe it alright. Look at the way he stares at her, it's like he'd go to the moon and back for that woman."
Ah, the moon. It was always the moon that got dragged down with the triumphs of love, not any other natural satellites, stars or planets were deemed worthy enough.
Another girl sighed with a blush, adjusting her hair in front of the mirror.
"I just wish my boyfriend would get down on one knee already. How many hints does a girl have to give until she gets a wedding like this? Is it really too much to ask for?"
The blonde next to her comfortingly placed her hand on her shoulder, shaking her head. "True love apparently takes its time. Hang in there, sweetheart."
I rolled my eyes, slapping my hand over my eyes to stop the incessant twitching.
How long can someone dry their hands? And why is there only one hand dryer in the only female bathroom for a wedding reception venue?
I checked my phone impatiently, switching from my home screen to my photo albums repeatedly, just so I looked occupied.
Suddenly, a silent notification popped in.
New memory created.
TOGETHER. OVER THE YEARS.
There were so many pictures, in so many places. Different outfits, different hairstyles, different events.
But he was there, in every single one. His arm thrown over me, making silly faces at me while I was trying to get good lighting, and sometimes he wasn't even able to smile properly.
I liked it, even when there was no smile.
True fucking love.
It was remarkable.
My thumb hesitated and lingered over the trash button.
This photo will be deleted from iCloud Photos on all your devices.
That picture wasn't anything to write home about. It was just us sharing a tub of pretzels, with him wearing his black square-framed glasses and that dorky beanie that completely clashed with his outfit.
I wouldn't stop teasing him for it.
It was a nice day.
A nice memory.
I blinked multiple times, almost hurting the phone screen as my wet thumb crashed down on the bin icon.
I gasped and hurriedly checked the tips of my freshly manicured nail, and violently sighed with relief when it was still in good condition.
