The Navy Dress in Every Album

I'm still in my dress from Priya's wedding, sitting on the hotel bed with the lights off, scrolling the photographer's preview link someone dropped in the group chat two hours ago.

I'm looking for myself in it. I find three photos. Background of the toast, blurry by the bar, half a shoulder in the first dance.

I recognize the dress before I recognize my own face in it. Navy, cap sleeves, hemmed twice. I wore it to Dana's wedding in March. I wore it to Alicia's in June. This is the fourth this year, and I didn't even notice I'd packed the same one again until just now, at 2am, looking for proof I was in the room.

Nobody makes me feel unwelcome. That's not it. Everyone hugs me at the door, saves me a seat, means it. I just keep ending up in the part of the photo nobody's going to crop in for later, the same dress doing the same job, holding down a corner of somebody else's night.

There's a save-the-date on the dresser for one more, in October. I haven't answered it yet.

I don't know if that's because I'm busy, or because I already know which dress I'd wear, and where in the photo I'd end up standing.