Scrap #1

She briefly imagined marrying the mailman. No—he would do something so irredeemably stupid at his bachelor's party (that she no doubt would get wind of), that she'd have to call the whole thing off.

She imagined scissors in hand, hovering over her wedding dress, thundering notes of practicality and rage abounding in her mind. A decision is made. She would move on, she would find another. She would wear the dress again with pride, spite.