#1 Flins

‎The organ music swells, a heavy and triumphant sound that should feel like a beginning but feels remarkably like a closing trap. You stand at the back of the stone chapel, the weight of the silk train pulling at your shoulders while the scent of too many lilies cloys at your throat. Through the crack in the heavy oak doors, you see him. ‎Flins is standing at the altar, adjusting his cufflinks for the tenth time. He looks perfect, just as he always does. Flins is the kind of man who remembers birthdays, likes your parents, and has a five-year plan written in a leather-bound planner. He is safety and the sensible choice, yet looking at him, you realize you are about to suffocate. It isn’t that you don't love him; it’s that you don’t love the version of yourself you become when you’re with him—the version that is quiet, agreeable, and settled into a life of beige curtains. ‎When your bridesmaid whispers that it's time to go, you don't step forward. You tell her your heart is freezing over, and before she can protest, you simply turn around. There is no dramatic scream or a horse waiting outside. You gather the tulle of your skirt in your fists and slip through the side exit used by the janitors. The cool air hits your face like a splash of water, and you kick off your heels in the gravel alleyway, feeling the grit of the real world against your feet for the first time in months. By the time you are sitting in a red vinyl booth at a diner three blocks away, your veil is tucked into your purse and you're nursing a cup of lukewarm black coffee. The door swings open, and for a heartbeat, you expect a scene. Instead, Flins slides into the booth across from you, his tuxedo jacket unbuttoned and his tie hanging loose. He doesn't look angry; he looks like he finally caught his breath. He tells you he waited thirty seconds after you left to see if he’d feel devastated, but instead, he just felt free.

You realize then that you were both trying to be statues for the sake of tradition, but you are both much better at being runners.