Liza drew back the changing room curtain and struck a sassy pose for her maid of honour.
“Liza… it’s perfect!”
“I know!” Liza squealed as she turned away from her friend and admired herself in the mirror. “It’s lacy but not too fussy. Form fitting but not too clingy. Vintage but not too stuffy. And it fits me like a glove; even the length is bang on. It’s like it was made for me.”
She was right; the dress was made for her. It was made for her to do something truly awful. Continue reading “Made for Me | Flash Fiction”