I loved this dress; it caressed my curves gently as it flowed down the angles of my body. It was one of the only dresses I couldn’t throw out when I moved from Ithaca to New York. It fit the same as it always did, and now I questioned when the last time was that I actually had the chance to wear it. I lightly dusted my nose with foundation and reapplied my soft brown lip gloss. I pressed my lips together approvingly in front of the mirror. The gloss gave my lips a nice, shimmery glow. I scrunched up my hair to give it that little more body, smiling at my adolescent aim of impressing a boy I liked. He was waiting downstairs for me, leaning against the post, with one of his legs raised against it. He hadn’t yet noticed me as I descended the stairs, as he was looking out toward the large open windows of the kitchen. The thick carpet cushioned my steps and I took the chance to admire his strong, handsome side profile. His hair was messy and his strong jawline clenched as he thought of something.
