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SCARLETT
EPILOGUE 1 YEAR LATERNormally, social gatherings made me want to pop a Xanax. I’d rather spend all day in the company of my dogs, horses, and chickens than a group full of chatty neighbors. This BBQ though was a crowd vetted by Roxy. The purple and pink-haired girl named Gracie introduced herself to me and asked, “Do you want any glitter paint? It’s made locally, and it’s totally non-toxic.”
Her cheeks were smeared with a rainbow of color, making her look like a cross between a Teletubby and a woodland fairy. “Sure, yours looks great.” I said, “Go ahead.”
She painted my cheeks with a light touch and spun around to skip off and ask another guest the same question. Her outfit was a romper printed with tiny pink ducks, and she wore coral Converse high tops to match.
I pondere
