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    Summary

    All white—roses, hydrangeas, lilies, and a few others that are slipping from her memory right now. The smell is strong, overpoweringly sweet. Her wedding dress clings to her body uncomfortably. The sun is blinding and her eyes can’t seem to stay open for much longer.

    She’s got no will to fight the drowsiness, she’s too tired. So, closing her eyes, she lets the darkness overtake her.

    -.-

    The sound of screeching metal jerks her awake. A loud booming voice is saying something which only adds to the pounding in her head. Blinking rapidly, the first thing to properly register is actually the smell. Like wet trash with a hint of weed, it’s overwhelmingly nauseating after the sweetness of the flowers.

    Her eyes have finally adjusted, though she’s pretty sure she’s going insane. Because standing before her is none other than the New York subway system.

    Language:
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