Van

Nearly fifteen years ago

As I opened the door to her dressing room, Madison turned with a gasp. Her emerald gaze softened as she took me in, scanning from my cheap rented shoes to the rented tuxedo. It wasn’t what I would choose to wear. It hadn’t been my choice.

“You aren’t supposed to see me.”

“I see you.” I waited for her response or a reaction to my voice. Relief came like a breath of fresh air as Madison ...