She feels pretty.
The black dress swishes when she walks, and Beth has curled her hair in an utmost perfection.
Of course she's wearing her chucks (for the last time no one can see them Beth), and her vanilla colored cardigan.
It was Cason's, but she put that fact aside because it had elbow patches for goodness sake.
She had washed it until it didn't smell like peppermint and clean soap, until it had no trace of him whatsoever.
She hurries backstage, primping costumes and hair, making sure the lighting was perfect, that the sound was working. It's a mess, but it's a beautifully concocted one.
Pride swells in her chest.
There aren't a lot of things Mira is sure about, but this is one of them.
A voice calls her over and tells her that they're shorthanded for the tickets and she goes out to do whatever she can to help.
So she sits there an hour before it starts, hoping that the cast is alright, and stubs tickets while showing people to their seats.
It's all going fine until he shows up.
YOU ARE READING
Waiting for Rain
Short Story"At the end of it all, sometimes people don't fall in love." - Mira and Cason, and all the things that ensue. (excuse the cliche-esque) #537 in Short Story 2.18.15
