Ernest went all the way. Lipstick, mascara, high heels, and a wig. It’s a special day.
He’s out on the streets taking selfies of himself, he’s tapping and dancing and popping and locking on the streets. In full-garb, flouncy skirt, and itchy tights over his hairy legs.
He could have made a fool out of himself, but he didn’t care.
All this effort was for a girl, for whom he had a story, a love story.
But she didn’t remember him, and that was okay. He wasn’t just the fool in this love story. He was a willing fool, and they could make new memories.
By starting again.