You enter one of the ballrooms. Inside are various people chatting away while drinking mimosas. All are dressed very formally. Nearby you see a guest book. A man in a navy suit approaches you, “Bride or groom?” He asks.
“What?” You reply.
“Are you from the bride’s side or the groom’s?” He clarifies.
“Oh...” you try to think of an answer, “I’m friends with both of them.”
“Well I guess that means we aren’t relate,” he says smiling, handing you a mimosa, “Have a drink.”
“Thanks,” you say before sipping a bit, you feel the bubbles tickle the back of your throat.
“I’m Greg,” he says, “I’m the bride’s brother. I’m surprised she hasn’t introduced us before.”
You burp from the bubbles, “Excuse me,” you say, your voice sounding slightly off. You feel a sensation of tickling in the back of your throat, causing you to cough more and more.
“No problem, champagne usually does that to me too,” he motions with his glass.
"No, I-I," You voice starts cracking. Almost as if you were going through puberty again. You cough trying to clear you throat. You take another sip of mimosa, the feeling begins to fade. You stop, but the feeling comes starts coming back. You down the entire mimosa.
"Wow" Greg says, "Maybe I should get you a glass of water?"
"No, I'm fine. Where were we?" You say in a sultry voice not at all your own.
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