text: (WP) Simple Courtesy I got engaged to be married to a wyvern by holding the door for him. I didn’t think anything of it; I was only being polite. We both worked at the same bookstore, and we happened to both be returning from our break, and he was behind me, so I just held the door open. He beamed at me; his eyes dewy with something that I couldn’t understand. “Patrick, you’re too kind! We’ll have to tell our parents, you know. Wyvern-human marriage is generally frowned upon in my culture.” I stared at him, frowning. “Marriage? What are you talking about, Dalton?” “You held the door for me, Patrick!” He answered as if this was obvious. “In my culture, showing someone specific kindness, such as you just did for me, shows the other person that you wish to be married!” There was that word, again. Marriage. I didn’t even know if I wanted to get married, and now here I was, engaged to a wyvern. For opening the door. “Uh, that’s not what I meant,” I said hurriedly, damning the bright flush that was climbing up my neck and flooding my cheeks. “I was only being polite!” But it was too late to backpedal, and I found myself making a date to have dinner with Dalton and his parents. My stomach had quickly tightened into knots, and nausea was quickly roiling my stomach. How had this happened? \*\* When I returned home, I told my parents the situation, feeling embarrassed all over again. My dad, who’d been folding laundry in the living room, looked at me, brow furrowed. But his eyes crinkled up at the corners, the corners of his mouth turned upward as if fighting a laugh. My mother was sitting with a cup of coffee on the couch, frowning thoughtfully. “But surely you can say that this is all a misunderstanding,” She said, taking a sip of her drink. “I’m sure once you explain, it’ll be a laugh, and then we can move on with our lives. Besides, we’ve been long overdue for a night out. We need to make a good impression on our future in-laws.” She dropped a wink, and my embarrassed “Mom!” was drowned out by my parents’ laughter. \*\* We met with Dalton and his parents in a fancy restaurant on the outside of town. We were all dressed nicely: I wore my finest suit, though it was too small and parts of my wrists showed; Mom had donned a silk gray sheath dress and a little tiny bag to match, with heels, and my dad wore the tux he’d worn to his own wedding to my mother, fifteen years before. But no matter how nice we looked, my heart wouldn’t stop pounding, and sweat formed on the back of my neck, my forehead, the small of my back. The restaurant wasn’t even warm, but I couldn’t stay still. I had to get out of this, or I was going to be married to a wyvern.