The room was quiet except for the ticking.

Rosa Sharon sat on the couch, the white tulle of her dress spilling over the cushions like a tipped-over glass of milk.

Joseph stood by the door. He looked at the gown. It looked expensive, restrictive.

-Should you be wearing that? he asked. With so much time left to wait?

Rosa Sharon ran her fingers along the lace.

-Normally, no, she said. I would have changed. Avoid wrinkles.

-Don't let me get in the way of a perfect dress, he said. I can leave while you change.

He made to move. She stiffened.

-No, she said. I think I want to remain as I am.

Joseph stopped.

-Would you leave it on if I weren't here? he asked.

She blushed.

-To be perfectly frank, no, she said. I’d be in a robe. 6

-Then preserve the neatness, he said.

-It’s an emotional security blanket, she said. If I take it off, I might undermine the gravity of what I’m about to do.

-Even if I weren't here? he asked.

She looked away. She looked at the floor.

-Even if you weren't here, she said. It’s not just about you being present.

-I’d hate to think I was the reason for wrinkles on that pretty thing, he said.

She smiled.

-It’s my choice. Life is filled with moments where we must weigh our desires against convention.

He nodded. He checked the room. There was no way out but the door he came in.

-How much time do you have left? he asked.

She looked at the clock again.

-Thirty-five minutes, she said. Thirty-five minutes until my life changes irrevocably.

-You're ready, he said.

She took a shuddering breath. The bodice of the dress was tight.

-I am ready, she said. More than ready.

He walked over. He took her hand. He squeezed it.

-Thank you, Joseph, she said.

He looked her in the eyes. Then he let go.

-Does the TV in here work?