her wedding

by plermpt

i was very surprised to see my ex-girlfriend living in my roommate’s room this morning on my way back from the bathroom. she was sitting up in her large white bed on her laptop, surrounded by pillows and tucked beneath a fluffy white duvet. the silhouette of an ominous figure sat on the bed against the wall, and as i peered through the slit i concluded that this was her boyfriend.

my apartment had grown in size on the way back to my bedroom; there was now a large banquet hall and a downstairs patio with a full backyard overlooking a smooth, grey body of water.

over the course of the day i witnessed my ex-girlfriend shouting various demands at cowering strangers. my roommate’s room was being draped in shimmering purple cloth and decorated with rose hydrangeas wrapped in white holiday lights.

flat screen tvs were stacked on top of silver hard drives, waiting to be mounted on the wall in the second extra room, probably to run a slideshow. one of the first guests to arrive was a bottom heavy woman with short blonde hair. without explicit instruction she anxiously began rearranging this equipment to busy herself, which sparked static. i gently chided her and told her to be patient. my ex-girlfriend was very stressed.

hundreds of people began showing up to watch my ex-girlfriend’s supposed performance piece. even a guy i worked with for one day last week was invited. he was sopping wet, and had a broken ankle and spoke about not giving a fuck and “going to spain.” i was drinking heavily and stayed away from the guests.

my ex-girlfriend spoke passionately about her dead sister and everyone teared up. people were crowding me in my own room, so i decided to help myself to the buffet. i couldn’t see inside my roommate’s room because it was so crowded; i could only hear cheers and clapping for my ex-girlfriend. i thought i heard my name whispered among the crowd.

snow fell from a grey sky. this imposed performance made me feel dejected in my own home, so in an attempt to make a scene i loudly pronounced that i was “ditching this bullshit and going to the beach” before jumping from the second story window into the backyard. my ankle was held by a shirtless enforcer who prevented the fatal plummet that would have woken me up. he was wearing a bow tie.

he chased me through a thick wedge of freestanding lard after i swung at him. my name was definitely uttered and my character assassinated by this forest of formally attired guests. i arrived at my roommate’s closed door and banged on it, demanding to be let inside so i could evict them for humiliating me with their success.

special guests i didn’t recognize were lingering after her performance when i barged into this VIP room. my ex-girlfriend was very displeased to see me and ordered me to leave. she was wearing a purple bob wig. i tried a joke by saying she looked like lady gaga but she returned a glare.

i stood outside of my roommate’s bedroom as guests were leaving. i struck up conversation with her boyfriend, who didn’t know who i was. he wore a feather in his short brown hair, a leather vest without a shirt, and a dream catcher earring. he was very disinterested in our conversation and kept impolitely looking around to see if there was someone else he could talk with. when he abruptly started to walk away i reached out to shake his hand, which he accepted for a moment as his back was turned to me. his handshake was feeble and clammy.