Six years ago, Rey Adams thought she had finally life figured out. Having broken away from her past, her life is irrevocably altered when she meets, a man who is the first person to treat her with kindness and respect. Six years later they're engage...
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The idea of how surreal her fiancé's untimely death didn't really sink in until gradually, one by one, gifts from friends that had been unable to attend the wedding started rolling in through the mail.
This also included the enormous three-tiered cake decorated in rich, vanilla frosting and embellished with tiny pine trees to represent their woodland themed wedding. In most cases it was traditionally cut by the bride and groom during the reception that was to follow the main ceremony, but it only now lie hidden away in the fridge. Well, as best as one could hide such a largely prominent decadent inside a rather small Frigidaire that was dated back to the mid 1990s.
For that reason entirely, Rey avoided the fridge like it was covered in plague, purposely despite the angry protest that her stomach was putting up from the lack of nutrition.
Thankfully, Finn had been more than accommodating when it came to bringing her sustenance as she shut herself away to allow the reality of what was happening to settle over her – that was before her good friend disguised as 'denial' found it appropriate to take up residence in the recesses of her thoughts.
The sun had risen three times since Hux's words made their way to Rey's ears, unwarrantedly. All of which she continued to reject it from ever happening even though with each passing hour it became undeniably, more difficult to prolong her ignorance of the truth.
Poe never made it to Los Angeles. There's been an accident.
The words rolled off her tongue like vinegar without having to verbally speak them: a poignantly, disagreeable bitterness, lying behind the meaning that made the jagged little pill harder to swallow.
She was measuring up to the likes of a putrefied sponge; too fragilely emaciated with holes to properly absorb anything what the surrounding voices were trying to tell her. Everything was a faint dull roar.
An accident was spilling coffee down the front of your favorite shirt. An accident was tripping over the same crack in the sidewalk a million times over before you finally remembered to pick your feet up instead of shuffling. An accident was used to describe a minor fender bender whilst backing out of one of the narrow parking spaces at Wal-Mart, which had happened, coincidentally, on more than one occasion given the larger-than-life 2017 Chevy Suburban she now drove.
Still, before the NHTSA authoritatively declared the reason behind Poe's crash was, indeed, a freak accident due to a failure in the engine Rey tightened her grip on the last sliver of hope that he was alive.
Perhaps there was the slightest of chances that his plane had been wrongly identified? But the genuine possibility was indeed remote. And it was just about as accurate as saying that they were still getting married tomorrow instead of planning a funeral.
This could've been nothing more than simply being a bad dream – a vivid nightmare – that was stuck incessantly looping through a series of realistic affairs while she stared at the front door with eyes wide shut, longing for him to come waltzing through the threshold like it was nothing more than him being held up in the city from one of the many extended layovers.
