Flashes of last night seep through my foggy memory. Her pulling me into a chapel. Me asking her countless times if she was sure about this. Her being positive this is what she wanted. Me only hearing the words that Kennedy wanted to marry me. My last memory was that on the worst day of the year, I had the time of my life. I suck a sharp inhale in realization because I vaguely remember slipping that ring on her finger, but I could’ve sworn that everything from last night was a fucking dream.
