Soren watched them disappear into the changing area, then found a nearby chair and sat down. A few minutes passed. Then a few more. He found himself leaning forward, elbows on his knees, glancing toward the curtain more often than he meant to.
As the curtain finally rustled and parted, he inhaled sharply, his breath catching in his throat.
Ethea sat in her wheelchair, the white dress flowing around her like morning light. The soft fabric draped over her shoulders and arms, the embroidery tracing delicate patterns down the front. The high collar framed her face, and her dark hair spilled over the pale fabric in gentle waves.
Soren stared, his mind going blank.
"...Beautiful."
The word slipped free before he could stop it.
'...The hell with it.'
He promised himself to be a man, so he decided to go for it.
"Ethea, you look absolutely stunning!"
He said, giving her a thumbs up.
