I was having my usual lunch break, sitting quiescently on my chair, reading a book, listening to slow music as I struggle to ignore the coldness of the office air-conditioning. Today’s chapter described a wedding celebration in detail. As if right on cue, my playlist gives way to a what could’ve have been a perfect wedding song. Suddenly, everything seems to be like in the movies.
I was standing behind a closed door. I see my face, beaming with anticipation and swifts back to my point-of-view. I looked down to my feet and realize I can’t make a glimpse of it. I was wrapped around something all white and smooth. This white beauty glimmers under the beautiful afternoon sky. I smell flowers and leaves rustled, danced along the song in my ears.
Then I lifted both my hands and see a bouquet of white tulips handed to me from above. I hugged them tight, breathing in the scrumptious fragrance that compliments the happiness and giddiness I feel inside. Then suddenly, the huge wooden doors open to a sea of happy faces, in beige and in white, and a mixture of baby blue and pastel yellow—my favorite colors. Every pair of eyes looking at me. And I see a red carpet. Then I slowly made my way towards the aisle.
I feel the butterflies in my stomach—winging every edge of my intestine, spiking even the tiniest strands of hair inside my nose, embracing the rapid beat of my heart. So this is genuine happiness. Oh I admire how wonderful this feels, tears like waterfall, smiling like a child. I stare at the blurred scenery in front of me. I see a man in all his white, clean grandeur, anxiously waiting to hold my hand—hold my hand so tight. I wanted to remove the veil covering my face to see his more clearly. Then the music stopped playing and I sprung back to my reality, this reality. I am hungry. It’s just another lunch break after all.