My eyes dart open, "Sinbad?" I glance around, but he's nowhere to be found. The light pours in through the window, and seems like the early afternoon. I should be concerned over the time, but all that's on my mind is: 'Why does that name sound so familiar?'
I come home only to be scolded by my mother, but it doesn't last long. We go straight to work on my appearance, cleaning me up before slipping on a (f/c) silk dress. The fabric is cool against my skin. The dress clings onto my figure, but the skirt and sleeves are long and flowing. It's chilly, and the dress is revealing enough that I feel uncomfortable. Mom styles my hair, carefully organizing each lock of (h/c). Then she adds the finishing touch, a lovely white flower entwined into my (h/c) locks.
Her smile calms me; it's somewhat genuine. "You look absolutely stunning!" She exclaims.
My heart sinks as I look at my feet. 'Yes.. I guess I do.' I can't help but think of Sinbad. It's strange to think how much he had been on my mind the last few hours despite the fact that I didn't really know him. I at least wished to see him once more, even if it was pointless.