#checkthetime

“Mom, leave,” I exasperate, brushing my dark, glossy chestnut hair in long strokes. “You’re a nervous wreck.”

She was tossing clothes out of my closet in search of my lace sleeved black dress that I’d buried beneath all of my pullovers, graphic tees and torn jeans. “How much time do we have?” her voice seems light years away in my closet.

I glance down at the underside of my right wrist, the small oval shaped watch protruding from my sun-kissed skin. “Two hours, twenty-six minutes, fifty one seconds… And counting,” I try not to panic as I read the time.

Ignoring my mom’s frantic rant, I finish combing my hair then grab my foundation. I open the small kit, glancing at my reflection. I know that my freckles are going to show through, but I feel like I should at least give it a shot. I lightly coat the brush in foundation then sweep it across my face, closing my eyes. My hand trembles.

Today I’ll meet my soulmate. The person I’m supposed to dedicate my life to and never leave their side no matter what. The one. As soon as the last second turns to zero and our watches sync with each other’s names, my new husband and I will be united. The thought of it all changing in the blink of an eye is mind blowing.

“I found it!” my mom victoriously cries, and I can hear her tossing a few more clothes.

I open my eyes to find her holding up the black dress and a pair of Louboutin Suede Black Pumps I thought I had thrown away the day I got them. “Great,” I mumble, closing my compact foundation and placing the brush back in its jar. “I’ll change.”

My mom eagerly shoves the clothing at me, a wide smile stretched on her lips. I take them and scurry to our bathroom, shutting the door swiftly. I slip out of my oversized shirt and sweats and step into my dress.

The design of the lace sleeves was rather abstract yet very feminine and made my skin tone a bit more prominent. The bodice of the dress clung tightly to my torso, somewhat shifting my insides to accommodate with its presence. The dress ends a few inches above my knee and leaves a little space for me to maneuver.

I eye the pumps warily before sliding my feet into them. I shuffle tentatively out of the bathroom and back to my room, where my mom gushes on and on about how gorgeous I look. I pick up my purse and pop a mint into my mouth then rush, as fast as I can without falling on my face, to the door. “Remember to smile!” my mom reminds me just as I shut the door.

I continue to my beat up, two seater Hover-Camaro I got for my eighteenth birthday, and get inside, cranking it up quickly. It roared with the effort to start and, after the fourth try, it came to life. Pulling out of my parking spot, I race down the street then remove the letter from the glovebox.

It confirms that I’ll meet my soulmate at the Press & Grind on Sunset Lane between the time three and five PM, which only makes my heartbeat accelerate beyond belief.