As I stirred awake from a deep sleep, a lingering sense of a dream hung in the back of my mind like a gossamer thread, faint and elusive, but I couldn't grasp its essence. Who cares about the nonsense woven in dreams anyway?
I turned my head to glance at the digital clock mounted in the hallway directly across from my bed. The cold blue numbers blinked back at me in stark contrast to the warm coziness of my bed.
"2:38?! I've only been asleep for 45 minutes?" My voice came out as a sleepy croak, barely able to convey my disbelief.
It felt inexplicably as if I had been hibernating for months. In a slight panic, I drew the curtains apart, only to be assaulted by a blinding ray of sunlight that sliced through the dimness of my room like a knife. A startled scream escaped my lips, and I quickly yanked the curtains back together, shutting out the offending brightness that threatened to overwhelm me.
"I can't live like this anymore," I muttered to myself, frustration creeping into my voice.
With a determined sigh, I shuffled over to the closet, scanning through the various garments hanging inside as if they were old friends full of stories to tell. This was my moment to find something to wear, as I had decided to attend the party after all. My closet was packed with clothes—luxurious silks, cozy knits, and designer pieces that shimmered under the closet lights—but at this moment, they felt hopelessly inadequate. It's a peculiar situation; sometimes having too many options can paralyze you. Feeling like a kid in a candy store, I almost wanted to grab everything and try it all on, yet I also felt overwhelmed and tempted to just walk away with nothing.
Typically, I'm not one for social gatherings, which is exactly why I was itching to wear all my best pieces on this particular night. Yet I instinctively knew that if I tried to wear them all at once, I'd end up looking absurd, possibly hefty enough to be mistaken for a stately elephant.
Reaching into my pocket, I fished out my phone and punched in Thia's number. She was my lifeline in moments like this, the only one I trusted to guide me through fashion crises. As I listened to it ring, my heart sank with each unanswered call. I held my breath and tried again, only to be greeted by the same desolate silence on the other end. It looked like I wouldn't have my trusty sidekick to help me decide. With a sigh, I resigned myself to the task of picking a dress on my own.
Comfort has always been my number one priority when it comes to clothing, and today would be no exception. My gaze finally settled on a cream-white jersey vest that had sleeves extending to my elbows. It sported a bold red number 7 emblazoned across the front, standing out with a playful pop of color. I'd always admired it but had hesitated to wear it because styling it right always felt like a challenge, especially given my notorious tendency to be perpetually late. After a moment's contemplation, I decided to turn to Pinterest for inspiration.
Within minutes, my screen filled with countless styling ideas, each more creative than the last. One particular look caught my eye—a perfect blend of casual yet chic that I thought I could manage. I grabbed a pair of navy blue jeans that I'd worn regularly and loved for their ample pockets and comfortable fit. They would complement the red number on my vest beautifully.
The styling suggestions suggested pairing it with black shoes, but in a moment of boldness, I opted for my red stiletto Louboutins instead. The glossy surface was so immaculate that I could practically use them as a mirror for my makeup application. I slipped on my favorite gold watch and layered two gold bracelets, fastening one on my left wrist and the other delicately hanging on my right. My nails, painted in a luxurious wine red, shimmered faintly in the light, and my hair—a deep shade of red with dark roots—was styled into wolf bangs, framing my face gently.
With my dark red purse clutched firmly in one hand, I made my way to the vanity table. Makeup was never my forte; I preferred to keep things minimal. Twenty-five minutes later, I stood back to admire my reflection, ready to confront the world outside.
As I walked down the long hallway towards the front door, the emptiness of my large house momentarily washed over me like a wave. Living alone could be a weighty burden, especially when I found myself consistently pushing people away and avoiding meaningful conversations.
Just as I was about to step through the door and into the world, I heard Pretty, my furry companion, barking at me impatiently. I hadn't sorted out her care for the evening yet. I would have called Sydney, one of my go-to dog sitters, but she had recently informed me that she'd be unavailable for an entire month. That left Loren as my only option, even though Pretty had never been particularly fond of her, often requiring bribery in the form of treats to warm up. But I was certain Loren would have an ample stash.
Scooping Pretty up into my arms, I attached a long leash to her collar and locked the door behind me. With a determined stride, I headed for my car, ready to face whatever the night had in store.