He rode up on a dark horse. So dramatic. I was sitting under an old oak tree on a blanket, sipping sweet tea and reading, my hair falling into my eyes. My parents stepped onto the porch.
“Mr. Powell – I have a question for you, but Mrs. Powell, I want you to hear this too. I love your daughter more than anything. I’d like to ask you for her hand.”
I choked on my tea as Dad shook his hand.
“Helloooooo!” I shouted. “Sean! We broke up MONTHS ago. Before I moved away.”
“But…I thought…if I asked your father…”
“So my dad is the one that gets to decide who I marry? Not me?
Mom began to wail. “Savannah Elizabeth Powell!! Do you want to die alone???!!!”
“You people are insane,” I declared, rising from the blanket. “I’m going inside.”
I watched my parents console Sean through the window and rolled my eyes. I looked to the sky, reminding myself that soon I’d be on a plane, far, far away.