Last Flap

A bachelorette party invitation for a night run like a final collection. The room goes black: quilted jackets, silver hardware, small bags on chains, heels that were bought for exactly this. The bride is the only pink thing in it, and that was decided weeks ago by the person holding the guest list. Everyone finds that out before they get dressed, not at the door.

The door is late, so dinner happens somewhere else first and the loft gets them already assembled. There is a mirror by the entrance and every arrival stops at it. Charms get clipped onto straps, a pearl strand ends up on the wrong bag, and a crystal heart is lost and found twice. By midnight the hardware has outlasted the shoes. The black holds.