Something Happy for a Change

I twist open a pomegranate, only slightly minding that a few seeds fell to the floor. Absentmindedly, I snack until the crunch of the seeds alone is no longer enough to hold my attention.

I know that I'm just putting off the inevitable, that I'm just delaying the moment when my fears become either irrational or simply too great and real.

Throwing in the empty shell of the fruit, I nervously walk to my closet and take in the little black dress that I had hoped to wear later this evening.

What if he doesn't like it?

What if it isn't the type of thing everyone is wearing?

Is it too short?

Does it make me look fat?

A billion questions run through my mind.

I unzip it with trembling hands, the fabric delicate and soft. Slipping it on, I realize that it fit perfectly, possibly better than it had before.

I'm ready before I know it, and my eyelashes feel twenty times heavier with mascara on.

I twirl around and hear a loud crunch.

My glasses.

I look down quickly and see that the lenses were shattered. I had to resort to contacts, although I wasn't looking forward to that.

In a matter of minutes my date is at the door.

As it turns out, my fears were irrational.