Half a year later, autumn.
Another friend's wedding. Mia wore a linen maxi dress and white canvas sneakers, her hair pulled back in a low ponytail.
The bride threw the bouquet from the stage. Girls all around her screamed and reached up. Mia stood to the side, holding her drink, not moving. The bouquet arced through the air and landed squarely on her forehead with a soft thud before she caught it on the bounce.
Not roses. Just daisies and baby's breath.
The people nearby started cheering. "Are you seeing someone?"
She looked down at the flowers in her hands and smiled, teeth and all, mouth wide open. "No," she said, and held the bouquet up. "But I have myself."
The bridesmaid brought the mic over. "So what kind of person do you want to marry someday?"
Mia glanced down at her canvas
