We were younger then. High school prom. She was beautiful even in one of those fluffy Jackie-O pink dresses that's sole purpose was to ensure teenage girls with particularly well-off parents didn't get pregnant after the prom. I was not as well-off, nor did I struggle to make the $80 payment on my basic tuxedo. Of course, the prom picture-taking was frightening. Two of us, dressed better than we would be on any other day save our (separate) wedding days. My arms curved around her waist in the most uncomfortable way, as if my parents were making me hug my sister after some long, drawn-out fight instead of holding on to someone I'd had a crush on for most of my life. But she was just as tense. The smile wrapped gently below her cheeks seemed disingenuous, which was hard to imagine for someone so sweet in all other aspects of life. There we stood, uncomfortably waiting, wrapped in each other's arms, under the sliver of an alumnium-foil-covered, cardboard-cutout moon, as close as we'd ever been, waiting for the photographer to give us one final cue before the flash froze this awkward moment in time.
FLASH
The photo now speaks volumes. The space between us grew as the night progressed. During the photo opportunity, the space measured maybe two inches, max. By the time the night was over, that space measured a lifetime. [ STAY TUNED ]
About Me
- Tribble
- I've passed the threshold of my third decade and am pushing through with little or no interruption. I'm a designer at a paper in Northern California - formerly of North Carolina, but always Texan by birth. I have a beautiful wife, Sarah and a cat named Bob.
2 comments:
Yes, more please. Your more button doesn't work.
OK. Sorry the MORE button is now fixed: see "STAY TUNED"
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