The Walk
The pews were lined with white roses that smelled faintly of sugar and something metallic, like the aftertaste of a hospital bandage. I could feel the weight of the silk veil snagging on my hair as I stepped onto the aisle, the hem of my gown brushing the polished oak floor with a soft, hollow thud. My lip was split, a thin line of bright red bleeding into the pale skin of my cheek, and the veil was torn near the crown, a jagged edge that fluttered like a wounded bird when the draft from the open doors caught it.
Every step felt like a verdict being read aloud. The pearls sewn into the bodice of my dress trembled, as if they sensed the gravity of the m
