were dating.
I’d worn that pink dress to a cheap little restaurant where the owner offered free dessert to anyone brave enough to dance when an old song came on.
I became the person everybody called when something needed remembering.
Richard refused.
Naturally, I stood up.
“Tisha, sit down.”
“Absolutely not.”
“There are people eating.”
“They’ll survive.”
I danced between tables badly enough to make strangers clap.
Richard covered his face.
Later, outside, he tugged at my dress.
I danced between tables badly enough to make strangers clap.
“That thing is dangerous.”
“The dress?”
“The woman in it.”
I laughed.
“Jealous because I wear pink better than you.”
Somewhere between the restaurant and home, I lost one earring.
I hadn’t thought about it in years.
“Jealous because I wear pink better than you.”
Daniel watched my face.
“Dad told me about that night.”
I looked at the pink fabric stretched
