Skip to content

Rachael Warren

I watch you walk, flowers in your hand, your hair curled to perfection. Each step you take makes the ringlets bounce and brush against your bare shoulders. You are tanned, the spray-on kind – it is far too early in summer to be that bronzed. You smile at me and I remember all the reasons I have become infatuated with you. Your dress fits you perfectly, I expect nothing less from you, your attention to detail always fascinates me. It covers up your tattoo that you have on your left hip, a little bumblebee with its wings spread.

            As you walk up the aisle, I can smell the expensive perfume you are wearing. I bought that for your birthday two years ago. I knew it was your favourite. You grin at me as I hand you the ring. I smile back, but on the inside I am livid. You say, ‘I do.’ I imagine the little bumblebee flying away as I watch you leave.