Daddy’s Little Girl

You are pacing. To the white rimmed mirror, and back to the wooden doors; to the white clothed table, and back to the closed doors.

Am I ready? You breathe deeply in, and exhale slowly out. Sweat starts to accumulate on the nape of your neck. Heat rushes to your face.

You look at the looming doors. You turn away to close your eyes…and silently pray. God, give me the strength…

Last check. Hair? Curled. Make-up? Applied. Bouquet? He hands you it. Then, his calm hand takes your arm. It’s time.

The doors open, and you step into the church

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