The Invite.

The invite. It made her... something.

Not angry. Red had nothing to do with it. Red would have been welcome; welcoming. Her envelope, the yellow cream of month-old milk, was stamped, instead, with a sludgy grey that made her name look hateful. Vile.

The package was lumpy; soft, and sealed with a plastic sticker printed over with the ill-matched coupling of purple and orange. Almost as ill-matched as they were. It didn't even tear - instead, it peeled off slimily, with the brilliantine resignation of a five-a-throw whore pulling her dress over her head.

The content was confusing. Three strips of paper and a piece of rope? No. It was a folded cardboard card tied with a mustard yellow shoe string. Only it wasn't a shoe string. It was cheap, flammable hemp drowned in artificial dye, and had sticky tape rolled around the edges to keep them from fraying.

Tying the knot. As though the metaphor wasn't tacky enough. How appropriate for them. They should have tied the knot a long time ago...

.

.

a noose.

The tawdry seal emblem was replicated on the opening flaps. The purple glared at her; it made her want to squint. Instead, she glared back. The knee-jerk reaction.

Inside, she found herself faced with a sunset - the Kodak kind that sells for a few bob on the front of a thrift store postcard. Everything was golden. She drew her hand back swiftly, worried that the colour was contagious. The lettering had already fallen victim, and she strained to read it. In so many ways.

A wedding. After all this time. That they had intended to scour her face with it, there could be no doubt. She'd look quite the fool with such a garish blush. Perhaps that's why they made the invitation so foul.

No. It didn't make her angry.
Red had nothing to do with it.