Ficlet: Glitter, Alexis/Milo, G
Glitter
Alexis/Milo, G
When she was a little girl she would dress up in the clothes she found in her mother’s closet. She would wrap herself in silken scarves that glittered and sparkled when she twirled. Her father would dance her around the living room and she’d scrunch her toes down into the end of the high-heels to keep them on her feet. She’d pretend she was a glamorous movie star, surrounded by adoring fans.
Now when she dressed up it was in new heels that gave her blisters and dresses that she could only wear once. There were more photographers than fans and the flashes burned in her retina. Too many people she didn’t know and didn’t want to know, that she had to shake hands with and smile demurely at. A sea of glitz and noise.
She’d cling to Milo and try not to let go. He’d buffer her from the crowds of strangers, a hand low on her back or an arm around her waist. If she couldn’t hide in his shoulder then she’d clutch two of his fingers. When she tightened her grip in anxiety he would lean over and place a kiss at her hairline. She'd let him lead her through the vaudeville of showy gowns and gaudy jewels, drunken Hollywood and sycophants. In the limo she would curl up in his arms, her shoes discarded on the floor.
Alexis/Milo, G
When she was a little girl she would dress up in the clothes she found in her mother’s closet. She would wrap herself in silken scarves that glittered and sparkled when she twirled. Her father would dance her around the living room and she’d scrunch her toes down into the end of the high-heels to keep them on her feet. She’d pretend she was a glamorous movie star, surrounded by adoring fans.
Now when she dressed up it was in new heels that gave her blisters and dresses that she could only wear once. There were more photographers than fans and the flashes burned in her retina. Too many people she didn’t know and didn’t want to know, that she had to shake hands with and smile demurely at. A sea of glitz and noise.
She’d cling to Milo and try not to let go. He’d buffer her from the crowds of strangers, a hand low on her back or an arm around her waist. If she couldn’t hide in his shoulder then she’d clutch two of his fingers. When she tightened her grip in anxiety he would lean over and place a kiss at her hairline. She'd let him lead her through the vaudeville of showy gowns and gaudy jewels, drunken Hollywood and sycophants. In the limo she would curl up in his arms, her shoes discarded on the floor.