Megan stared at the stain, horrified. The sample gown had had a bright pink lipstick stain on the inside of the bodice--in the exact same spot. Now it was fainter, as if someone had tried to clean it, but it was still most definitely there. This was supposedly a new dress--THE DRESS--her wedding gown!
Can I get my money back? Can I re-order it elsewhere and get it in time...?
Megan stared at the stain, horrified. “Mom’s gonna kill me.”
“Uh-uh,” said Tory. “It’s an old one, or it wouldn’t have been in the dress-up bin. Come on, you’re the bride, remember?”
Megan walked across the lawn, picking dandelions as she went--the grass-stained white housecoat dragging behind her.
Patty, the preacher, stood by the arbor. “You’re married. Amen.”
“I do,” said Megan.
“I do,” said Tory, “But no way am I gonna kiss you.”
Note that the first story is true, except for the name!
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