For Sally, who rocks more than anyone!
Kind of Blue
It is the unnatural combination of oxygen, light, and city smog that creates the brilliant display of colors in the dusk skies above New York City. And the orange glow that filtered its way through the church windows that evening blanketed the room in a warm hue, softening her reflection in the full-length mirror.
Monica ran a flat hand over the satin fabric of her dress, ironing out the wrinkles that no one but her would ever notice. Her hair sat in a neatly arranged heap on top of her head, curls of ebony cascading down, and framing her face perfectly.
She fumbled with her diamond and sapphire bracelet, shaky hands turning it so that it was just so.
Everything was perfect; everything was fine.
She took a deep breath and lifted her head, her eyes slowly following suit.
Blue eyes met blue, as she focused on her own reflection.
A solitary, rebellious tear slid down her porcelain cheek, shattering the illusion.
She would never be the same.