My thigh-high, bedazzled-black dress fit perfectly. My makeup felt especially heavy and overpriced. My best friend sat in the passenger seat smiling with closed eyes. Tonight was our senior prom and my recently purchased Civic jalopy was our fantasy chariot. I had my car radio blasting a special playlist that I envisioned would narrate the rest of our night. My friend’s vocal cords reached higher than her garnished cheetah print heels, which, oddly, matched my exact heels! In frustration, I glared at her flaunting eyes with my own vocal chords ready to claw.
I glance up! My pupils dart! The stop-light blurs red. Flash! A small car runs into the side of my back-left seat. Our song turns to screams. Our heavy make-up begins to waterfall down our blushed cheeks. Our fantasy story turned black. All our preparation, hopes, and foreseen limelight was now engulfed in shattered glass and flashing lights. My prince in shining armor turned out to be my Civic’s frame that allowed us to bounce off the crash and keep us safe. Luckily, we got to our prom safely and on time. Rather than our red-carpet entrance, my prom included an expensive ticket with the only hook-up of the night being my car attached to the back of a tow truck.
The Bolt Magazine 