Day 213: Write for ten minutes about what is running through a husband-to-be’s head while his wife-to-be is walking down the aisle to the altar where he stands.

Oh my god. This is actually happening. I’m actually getting married to Marissa Bates. She is right outside that door, it’s going to happen. She’s going to walk down this aisle with her dad who’s going to be glaring at me as he shuffles up leaning on that stick because he’s a war hero and he thinks I’m a waste of space because I’m just an accountant but he doesn’t realise I’m an accountant for Annalise McMannon’s crime syndicate and my job is just as dangerous.

Probably a good thing now that I think about it, I don’t think he’d be letting me marry her if he knew.

Holy shit, the door’s opening. Holy shit, I just thought holy shit in church. Wait, I did it again. Okay, concentrate, concentrate. It’s the wedding march.

She looks incredible. She convinced her mum to let her have the wedding dress. It’s so beautiful.

She’s so beautiful. That black hair that falls down to the small of her back, the understated jewellery, nothing gaudy or attention-seeking, just complimentary, enhancing. My god, she’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

There he is, there he is glaring at me. Go away, you shuffly old man and let me stare at my very soon to be wife without being distracted by an angry old guy with a limp.

She’s here. He’s giving her away. She’s about to be my wife.

I’m never going to smile this hard again.

I wanted this one to read stream of consciousness as opposed to a regulated story. I hope it works?

The Idiot in Tin Foil