29
Straight after the triathlon, Rachel and Aurelle were in a bathroom at the grad pub, getting changed for the art opening. They had put dresses in their knapsacks in the morning, which felt like an eternity ago. Rachel looked carefully at Aurelle, who had pulled her dress over her head – a slim-fitting, vintage-y thing in emerald green that set off her pale skin. She’d left the back hanging open while she angrily swiped lip gloss over her mouth, unable to find her signature red lipstick at the house, barely looking at her reflection now.
‘Here – let me,’ Rachel said, zipping the dress up. ‘Hey, are you OK?’
Aurelle hardly seemed to notice her. She shook her head, trying to make sense of it for the umpteenth time. ‘I mean, I’m not imagining it, right? She fired that g*n while she was
