Nera
“I’m coming down in a minute, Dania,” I say into the phone as I rummage through the closet, searching for my other red heel. “But just a heads up, I can’t stay long. I still haven’t finished my paper that’s due next week.”
“What’s it about? Treating constipation in goats?” She giggles.
“Very funny.”
“Are they really going to teach you how to deliver piglets and things like that?”
I spy the shoe in the corner and pull it out. “Probably. Where are you parked?”
“Just out front.”
“Okay. I’ll be there in a sec.”
I put on my shoes and head to the mirror to take a quick look. The black bandeau dress Zara made for me is strapless and reaches halfway to my knees. I wore it two weeks ago to a cocktail party my father hosted, but it’s the only one that doesn’t need ironing. It’ll do. Aft
