I got up right when the early morning sun was about peaking out from the sky. It was a bright and gay Sunday morning. I had my bath, dress in my favourite gown–a white flay gown with black stripes stopping right above my knees. It had puffy long sleeves which stuck tightly around the wrist.
The heart shaped bodice was tightly held in palace on me by a bold black string running in 'X' patterns through numerous holes on the back. I let my brown hair pour about my shoulders after noticing that the slight cut on my forehead hasn't fully healed. Lastly, I paired the gown with block heels which had tiny glittery butterflies on each straps.
After breakfast, we drove to church. The salmon by the pastor was powerful and inspiring and the choir rounded it off with melodious singing out of this world. We waited for mum right after the service beside the car. She was engaged in an unending conversation with some fellow worshippers.
