Orange

Colors have symbols.

    I enter the small dress shop on Crestview Lane. There's one employee there, in a small tunic and pants, looking small in her large glasses and tight ponytail. I clear my throat, and she looks up from her hemming.
    "Hello, welcome to the Dress Me Dreamy dress shop, how can I help you?" she asks, like a parrot reciting an owner's words.
    "Yes, I'm looking for an orange dress for a special occasion," I say.
    "Orange, hm?" She looks around in the rows of dresses. After searching through a pile of newly hemmed dresses, she pulls out a knee length flowey one. A large orange bow ties around on the back. "Is this formal enough?"
     "Let's see." I take the dress, holding it carefully, and disappear into the dressing room. After re-tying the bow, and pulling it down a notch, I come out to the large full scale mirrors. As I look in the mirror, seeing my pale, flat-chested, bony body turn into a beautiful woman, a tear forms in my eye. Orange. The employee, Charissa, her name tag reads, whistles.
     "Beauty-full," she says, and I nod, my auburn hair bouncing. "I can add extra padding if you want..." she adds. I shake my head.
     "No. The more natural, the better."
     "Okay. It fits like a glove, by the way."
     "How much?"
      She looks me over. "Look. It's seventy dollars. But orange isn't that popular, and you look gorgeous in it. So...fifty."
      I smile. "We have a deal."

~*~

     I look in the mirror, wondering how I should do my makeup. First, I tie my hair up, but not tightly. Loose bun, with strands falling down. I decide to just put on brown eyeliner. But then I wipe it off. I open my drawer, and pull out my orange sparkly eyeshadow. I apply it, and put on a pair of black ballet flats, with a little orange bow on them. My mom calls from downstairs, telling me that Lance is here to pick me up. I sigh, and walk to the car.
     He laughs when he sees my outfit. "I like it, Leigh."
     "Thanks." The drive is silent. Just like it should be. I wish it would rain, but the night sky is clear tonight. We pull up into the parking lot.
     "I'm scared," I whisper. Lance squeezes my arm.
     "So am I. But we have to do this."
     "I know."
     We open the doors. Everyone is wearing black, and are surprised to see my brightly colored outfit. I ignore them all, and immediately run towards the casket. No more hiding. I have to see.
      They cleaned her. Wiped away the gashes and blood, combed her hair, and put her in a lovely dress. No stench of death. No sign of the car wreck. My best friend could've been sleeping.
      "She's beautiful," Lance says, when he comes up behind me. I nod, stomach in my throat. I touch her cold hand gently, then I pull out what I've been saving.
 
      An orange flower. I place it beside her.

      Her favorite color.

Author's Note

I've always wanted an orange dress...

Reviews

[Bella-Marie]

That's such a beautiful story. Sad and happy at the same time. Makes me feel like laughing and crying.

[roarke]

Orange is one of those colors "for every occasion" isn't it?
As a red herring, the dress maker might make a mention of it being a good party dress to help set up the twist of the funeral, just a brief sentence.
Lance? .... I'm not going to say anything.... (Lance?)

The two parts of your story are very well done. A balance is achieved and the reader flows easily between one scene and the next. You handle your economy of words here excellently. Good work.