Talk to Fa

I keep looking at my junior prom picture. I found it on my drive recently. I’m wearing a form-fitting, deep-cut V-neck halter dress in shimmery red. Floor-length. I’m wearing 3-inch-heeled vampy red patent-leather pumps with ankle straps. I’d gone to a hair salon to dye my hair black and get a chin-length bob for the occasion. My date is dressed in all black. Black pants, black shoes, a black shirt with the top buttons open, and a black tank top underneath. He’s wearing a tasteful silver necklace. His black hair is slicked back to show his forehead, and he’s wearing tinted gradient glasses. In the picture, he’s doing the bridal carry. Both of us are smiling big. He got us some special corsage and boutonniere made with black flowers. And to tie our outfits together, he got me a black feathered boa to flaunt and layer on my all-red look. I love how fun and flamboyant we were together. We danced all night. He was an excellent dancer. We had sex all night. On the bed. In the bathtub. Any surface we could find. And we joked and laughed all night.