Drakonian Pink
What are little girls made of?
No. No. No. No. No!” grumbled Ermana, rising from her stool and snatching the awl out of Rohiya’s sweaty hand.
The ladies at the nearby sewing machines ignored their spat. Around the noisy room, nineteen heads bent over their own handbags at various stages of design, but Rohiya could feel their stifled smirks anyway.
“I told you. Groove the leather on the grain side first,” bossed her sister. “And where’s your cardboard? Don’t you listen to anything I say? I just sharpened this point! You can stone and strop it yourself if you’re too stupid to put an old box underneath.”
“Last time you yelled at me because the stitching holes didn’t line up with the groove!”
Rohiya had never hated this workshop so much. She thought she hated it before whe
