Butterfly Kisses.
It's September seventeenth, around five o'clock in a small hall located above a local fire house. The room is considerably crowded with family and friends of a young couple married earlier that afternoon. The faint smell of chicken and gravy lingered as dessert was being set up to the far right, I could already taste the strawberries and fondue. The crowd was applauding the first dance of the bride and groom when the DJ announced the father of the bride dance over the loud speaker. The clapping ceased as the proud father walked to his daughter and grabbed her hand. She f…
