Midnight on the Bridge - writing exercise

"Midnight. On the bridge. Come alone." She laughed. It was just his style to make it sound like a ransom note or random trade off when really it was something they'd planned months before. Of course she would be alone. Of course she would meet him on the bridge. Of course she'd be there at midnight. It was the plan all along. She snatched the note off of the windshield of her car and stuffed it into her purse. She still needed to finish getting ready, and there was so much to do! Margaret jumped behind the wheel of the car and took off at lightening speed down the lane and taking the corner on nearly two wheels. She wasn't expecting to have to work that late. Margaret threw open the door to her spacious apartment and raced up the stairs to her bedroom. Her closet door was half open already and one of her satin high heels was poking through the open space, hinting at that being the reason it hadn't closed behind her in the morning. That too was flung open with a mighty force and the delicate clothes within fluttered from the force of air rushing outward. She snatched down the closest hanger and pushed the shoulders of the dress to either side. The delicate material landed in a pile on the floor. She hurriedly slipped it over her head and shimmied until everything was fitting exactly as it should, tugging here and there as she went. Then she slipped into the shoes that had barred the door from closing all the way. In a near panic, she stuffed the ends of tissues around the neck opening. Out came the lipstick, dark eye shadow, mascara and blush. She glanced at the clock. 11pm already. She had to leave or she was going to be late! She raced back down and through her front door, back out to her car - not yet cooled down. She threw the car into drive and again went bouncing down the lane heading for her midnight destination and the man waiting for her there. The little car trundled and bounced down the dirt road. The lack of a roof caused her hair to blow this way and that, and for a moment she wondered what it would look like when she finally got to her destination almost an hour later after winding around the back roads through the tall cedars of Big Sur, California. A scarf tied over her hair held it together slightly better against the wind, Her mother hated that she'd grown her hair out so long, convinced it was merely a fad, like prohibition had been for the previous 13 years. Surely her mother would say something about her hair if she could see her right that moment. Finally she pulled up to a quiet place in the woods and leaped from her car. Her satin slippers hit the dirt pathway and barely caught before she was taking off at a dead run. Through the woods she bolted, hoping against hope that she'd made it on time. She rounded one last corner and there he stood, waiting for her, looking someone impatiently at his pocket watch. He was standing on the middle of the bridge just like she'd expected. "There you are," he shouted. "You're almost late!" "I know. I had to work late. I got your note though." "You got my note and you were still almost late? You look beautiful by the way. Let's go." She linked her arm through his and the pair crossed the bridge together. She smiled up at him, excited for what was to come, knowing full well that neither of them would have dry eyes in less than a minute. Just then he reached up with his free hand to wipe away a tear. He caught her staring up at him and smiled down. "What? It's not every day a father gets to walk his daughter down the aisle, you know." "I know." She smiled. As they rounded the corner heading deeper into the woods, she spotted a familiar face. As planned, her mother held out a small bouquet of white lilies that Margaret clutched close to her chest. It would be bleak for some time, she knew. But the economy would recover someday. She'd have her chance to make a happy home.