Of course she doesn’t love him the way I do. She doesn’t have his interests at heart. It was obvious last night, when they were kissing. She couldn’t see the look on his face. It was—how best to describe it? Disinterested. Yes, that’s it. And her, all the time, pawing at him and batting her empty doe eyes. Only when he saw me in the shadows of the palms did he show any emotion. He jiggled out of her embrace and made towards me. But it wasn’t our time; not with the film soon to premiere and him in line, at last, for the roles he deserves.
So I took my leave.
Now I’m standing behind the velvet ropes, the red carpet stretched before them. The rubbernecking fans are already gathering around me. Tonight he will have the chance to compare. I have her dress, you see. The one she’ll wear. He’ll see how well I wear it. How pale she is beside me. The cameras will capture it. Tonight.
small stories about love 