the state line
"You can do this," she said, determination in her eyes as a lock from her half-done bridesmaid up-do fell in her face. "You can do this, Whitney," repeated the rest of the wedding party as they curled their hair in what I had formerly only known as the Old Testament room. I nodded a thank-you to the bride whom I didn't know, and to the other bridesmaids who looked at me with sympathetic gazes. How I had found myself in the Old Testament room, spilling my sob story to a wedding party of whom I knew one member, on my sophomore year spring break, actually happened to be a long and terrible tale, most of which I do not currently have time to fully tell because I barely have time to eat, let alone write a blog. Essentially, the text conversation went like this: "Andrea. It's going horrible. I'm going to throw up." "Whitney! I'm at Grace because I'm a bridesmaid in a wedding here today. Come here. We'll help." I walked...