Nyra:
“You’ve been staring at that dress for ten minutes.”
Maggie’s voice came through the video call while I stood in front of my bedroom mirror with one hand on my hip and the other holding the hem of a dress I had already decided was not suitable.
“I’m not,” I said, rolling my eyes.
“You absolutely are!” She chuckled. “Don't pretend like I don't see you.”
I rolled my eyes and tugged at the sleeve. The maroon dress from this morning was draped across the bed, discarded after I got home from work. I had changed twice since then and somehow managed to dislike every option equally. The realization irritated me more than the clothes did.
This was dinner. One dinner. Not a wedding. Not a deposition. Not something that should have me standing in front of a mirror arguing with a r
