She wasn't what I had expected in a seamstress, especially one in her mid-thirties, with her short hair dyed purple and piercings dotting her eyebrows... nose, and lips, while a black, scroll-like tattoo encircled her throat and shoulders. She seemed more at home on the cover of one of those devil-spawned Heavy Metal albums than in a beautiful wedding boutique. But she was supposed to be the best, and I wanted to have the perfect wedding next month. John and I had been engaged since we had. Without any drama at all she walked up to the young man, captured his eyes with her own, and said to him “I need you.” She had spoken in a low voice, and no one else had seemed to notice either of them. The young man, his mouth dry and his eyes wide, seemed completely bowled over. He seemed to try to speak, but his adam’s apple simply worked up and down, though no sound passed his lips. He nervously nodded his assent, and without further discussion she led him to one of the carriages offering. More

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