I shook the melancholy thoughts from my head. If I didn’t want Olivia to bop upstairs and offer to help me dress, I’d better get moving.

I gave a long and heartfelt sigh. “I can burn it after the wedding.”

That cheered me a tad. I had had a nice bonfire after the third cousin twice removed’s wedding and could look forward to another one.

I unzipped the garment bag in a dramatic flourish and suffered paralyzing blindness. I wasn’t blinded by a chemical discharge or random laser or anything that friendly, but by the dress itself—a bright squint-worthy gold. Rumplestiltskin gold. I yanked the dress from the bag in hopes that the brilliant gold was a layer of psychedelic tissue paper. No such luck. I pushed the empty garment bag onto the floor and spread the dress out on the bed for a better look at my fate. The design of the dress was relatively simple. It had a floor-length full skirt with a sleeveless off-the-shoulder top. I could not overcome the color. The shimmering gold fabric attracted light like a bike reflector. I hoped that the wedding invitations recommended guests bring sunglasses and SPF forty-five. I doubted they’d ever need them more. By that time, I had been in Olivia’s room a full fifteen minutes without a peep. I knew that at any second, she’d be tapping on the door asking if I needed any help, or, worse, her mother would.

I stripped and tugged on the dress. It zipped up, but it was remarkably tight, highlighting every imperfection my figure had to offer. I stood in front of the mirror in Olivia’s childhood bedroom and felt the sudden and uncontrollable urge to burst into tears. The dress was hideous in every conceivable way: cut, color, and style. I giggled, somewhat manically, I’m afraid. I doubled over, and something popped in the back of the gown. Apparently, my stock bridesmaid dress measurements had changed since the third cousin twice removed’s ceremony.