Read the story so far here.
Peering into the darkness, her eyes fell on a figure crouched at her feet. He was on bended knee, holding out a dark velvet box with the unmistakable glimmer of polymorphed carbon. Will you marry me, came the words from a galaxy far, far away, and echoed in the ether of that seaside town. Her eyes re-focused. Her ears nudged each other into soldier-like attention. Even her stomach stopped churning for the merest of moments.
Will you marry me, he repeated, as her brain tried to pinch her tongue into responding. Say something, it hissed. Anything!
So she did. Barf, she went, I’m going to throw up, and stumbled forward, bracing her body for projectile hurling. Miraculously, something else emerged. She heard a voice say yes. With an exclamation or two thrown in for good measure. And their eyes met as he rose at last.
The ring was simple and locally-bought. We’ll call it Thiffany’s, she giggled, as he slipped it on her finger, smiling and holding her gaze. But nothing in their lives was quick and painless, so why should an engagement be an exception? Remember the bright blue door she had stopped outside? At the precise moment that the ring went on, it opened, and a figure emerged.
(To be continued…)