The Red Door

I was driving just below the speed limit of twenty-five miles an hour, and being followed by a pack impatient vehicles, as I drove past the house to my left. I pulled in on the corner of the next…

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Melodramatis personae

The clock is creeping up to midnight as I write this. Today was a busy day, giving me barely any time to write.

We shopped for engagement dresses and rings today.

It’s been a week since 6/11. Seeing the person I’m supposed to stay with for the rest of my life isn’t as much of a shock anymore.

The men joke about bracing themselves for a day worth of waiting. My dress selection is done in fifteen minutes, shocking him.

We spend three hours shopping for his suit. Once, they ask me if a colour looked good on him. While I skilfully dodge the question, I wonder what’s the point if he’ll always look like a four.

Then I look in the mirror and realize, so will I.

Vanity is a bitch to have, even for a four like me.

I wonder if it’s the Game of Thrones, my falling out with anything related to romance or just plain common sense, but when he suggests we have couple rings with each other’s initials on them, I cringe inwardly.

Mercifully, the store clerk says they don’t have rings with my initials.

After a good while, we’re finally done with selecting our rings. My parents encourage him every step of the way.

It must be lonely, I think to myself, having to do your engagement shopping with your in-laws. At least he has better social graces than me to deal with the situation.

His parents are like a lot of migrant parents, who send their children to the city so that they can make a better life for themselves.

As he walks away to settle his part of the bill, I see Mom tearing up. When we drive back home, she is emotional when she says how lucky she feels to have such a nice son-in-law like him.

“He hasn’t asked for your number yet, trusted us to take care of selecting a dress for you, never complaining about the arrangements… he really wants to talk to you but doesn’t know how to initiate. Open up to him. You don’t find such amenable boys everyday.” she says.

Maybe I’ve finally reached the acceptance stage if I’m pitying him, thinking he must be a fool to be so nice.

Or maybe it’s just the GoT marathon getting to me.

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