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|MISFITS! > parking lot > the king's wedding [e]|
|Posted by: dean vegas Jul 7 2018, 01:18 AM|
|Posted by: benny li Jul 8 2018, 11:38 AM|
|Posted by: genevieve versailles Jul 9 2018, 09:15 AM|
if you're letting go
let me go slowly
A small square box coated in metallic Christmas paper, because she was too cheap to purchase anything different, sat secured in the palm of her hand; the edges of the box’s wrapping was fraying and splitting away from the poorly placed pieces of tape meant to secure them. Yet, Jenny held no shame nor did she attempt to hide her sloppy endeavor at constructing a decent present for the bride and groom to be. Instead, the blonde shuffled through the school parking lot to the makeshift wedding altar awaiting the ceremony that would eventually take place.
Looking around and taking in the empty parking lot, she wasn’t surprised she was possibly one of the first guests to arrive. Being on time, especially when free food was involved, was never a struggle for the junior. Food would have to wait, though, considering she wasn’t sure who to give her present to. Who was in charge of this wedding? Scanning her blue eyes through the makeshift event the junior hoped to find an answer for her question.
No clipboards. No uniforms. Luckily there was also no security, which meant this was probably a student ran thing. Nothing looked official and no one fit the description of a person in charge. But, as Jenny continued to search, her face scrunched up in concentration, she finally landed on a possible source for gift exchange: the groom. His bright red hair stood out the most amongst his strange attire: a suit onesie. The blonde slanted her head to the side and pursed her lips as she was obviously confused about this whole thing. With a shrug (she just wanted cake who cared about the other nonsense) she headed over to the red head and stretched out her arm towards him.
“For the happy couple,” she mumbled out softly while hoping he would retrieve the gift from her open palm, “It’s cologne.”
To be more precise, it was her grandfather’s almost empty cologne which was still good for a couple of squirts of musky fragrance. In fact, you could sort of smell the scent squeezing out the edges of the box to waft into the smothering summer air. Turning her head, she acknowledged the young woman beside her not wanting to be rude.
“Where’s the cake,” she said noticing it was absent from the snack table.
Honestly, that was the guest she was most anticipating.