I called the lost property phone number but anautomated voice told me they weren't open again until Monday. I thencalled Olivia and told her the story. She tried to assure me thateverything was going to be fine but I found it difficult to believeher. My wedding, years in the planning, was three weeks away and I hadjust lost my ?10,000 wedding dress.Mark tried to fix things the only way he knew how, by throwing money atthe situation. He offered to buy me a replacement dress, but there justwasn't time, not to find my dream dress again. It was a one of a kinddress, I had to get it back. So I decided to try and stay positive andput all my efforts into finding it. The next day I contacted the localnewspaper to put out an appeal, which they did. I posted on Facebook,Twitter, Instagram and every other social media output I could thinkof. I called a local radio station and spoke about my story on air. Iwas highly embarrassed as I knew some of the guests from the weddingwould probably hear. This was the solemn promise, the terrifying seduction, of the whispers: the end of doubt, just one step and all questions would be driven out by the numbing cold of endless dying, endless falling. Perhaps this was the best he could hope for, he had left the warmth and comfort of believe behind so long ago now, had made so many turns and twists in this featureless landscape that he no longer even knew which direction retreat lay in. Yet he could not accept that the salvation of the fall was all that remained to him, he clung to the belief that there was another end awaiting discovery. How he hated this belief: it was as empty as the step he feared, stemming from nothing but his need to escape and his arrogance in thinking he could. Why could he not let go? It had been so long, why must he continue to torture himself with hope? Why was he here again tonight, hadn’t he been here often enough to know that there would be no answers? Every year he returned to this night that he lived.
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