— rachel hargrove tree lighting, downtown.
"How many lights do you think is on that sucker?" Emmy questioned the woman beside her curiously as she stared up at the massive tree that sits in the town's center, waiting for the mayor to finish her speech so they could flip the symbolic switch of the tree and the big man upstairs would inevitably be able to see Providence Peak from the North Pole. "You know what, don't answer that. But I am curious what they do if a bulb blows. Like, if they're the kind of lights that blow half the strand because of one bad bulb, who's shitty job is it to replace that entire strand? I can't imagine anyone is thrilled to be digging around in a wild billion-foot-high tree in the middle of winter." Even without alcohol flowing through her veins, the randomized thoughts spilled from her mouth easily, not having anything better to tell the other about. For the first time in forever, her life was going fairly smoothly, and the rose-colored haze from her wedding night still hadn't faded from around her. For once, she didn't have any forbidden thoughts or rusty feelings weighing on her. Just her and the simple life of commitment. "Shit, it's cold, remind me why you wanted to do this?"
@rachelhargrove












