She gasped at the white brightness of her image, the gown soft and flowing like a cloud of white satin with ribbons of sunlight streaming behind her. The veil was a vapor, an aura, a magical fairyland song held up by fluttering doves.
In her hand, a bouquet of pink rosebuds. Behind her, a line of rosewine bridesmaids in an English garden of wrought iron groomsmen.
She watched a single cloud drift across the blue glass morning, the wedding guests slowly finding their way to their seats.