Glistening pearl-white lazy stars from the depressing overcast night pierced Loretta's teary immense blue eyes. The barbaric wind prevailed upon her long, curly, auburn hair which absorbed the flooded tears away. Resting beside her bedroom window, she focused her attention to a distinctive, special star. Golden, precious, it was. It reminded her of her loving mother, who died seven years ago, on Loretta's twentieth birthday. Still, now she remembered every detail of the day. The star twitched, which mimiced her mother's pretty sparkling hazel eyes that she had owned. She could smell her lavender perfume that she used to wear. The window was wide open and the blast of wind had faded into a peaceful breeze. It tickled her ear, like how her mother used to kiss her to sleep, whispering to her how beautiful she was. Her tears rolled down one more time as the thoughts appeared again. It was a tragic loss to Loretta, she was still suffering from bereavement. Slowly, time lingered on, she lay resting on the window sill, where she cried sofly to sleep.

The whistling of birds and the beaming sun woke Loretta up, where she found herself positioned on her bed, quenching her blanket tightly as if she had to hold on for her dear life. She gasped in terror when she noticed her torn wedding dress had been perfectly repaired, just as perfect as when she saw it in the wedding dress shop. She could have sworn that she intentionally tormented the dress years ago, but she still claimed it in memory of a person. Slowly unfolding her hands to let go of her cold blanket, she forced herself to stretch her limbs out. To her disbelief, the window that she had laid beside was tightly shut.

Slowly, climbing out of her victorian-style bed, she hid her mouth with her left hand, fixed in scepticism. She stepped towards the wedding dress and laid her right palm onto the garment, where she began to feel the softness of the silk. You would not have noticed that it was once torn apart. It laid there. Innocent. In the wardrobe where it stood out from all the other dark clothing that Loretta also owned. On the other hand, she paced towards the window that was opened last night. Of course, it was now closed. She deposited the perfect wedding dress to a side and began to open the window. She pulled the handle, but it was strongly held together, as if it had been superglued. Another attempt was still a failure, it was incredibly rigid, like a stubborn block of cemented bricks.