I need to put on my little black dress. I need to paint my toes, "I'm not really a waitress", red. I need pull the shoebox off my shelf; the one with the sky high heels with little silver buckle around the ankle. I need to curl my hair and line my eyes in kohl and open the lipstick I never use. And I need to hold the hand of the man I love and lean in when he whispers, "I love you."