31
Midori pinched the space between her brow. It was less out of annoyance and more to try to keep herself awake. She felt bone weary at the end of this long day. All around her, her vision lay in tattered pieces of fabric.
“That ruff can stay, but the high-waisted skirt has to go. We need to make it a low-hanging mini skirt instead.”
Midori’s hands rose to the cloth automatically, at Phancy’s critique. At the end of her finger, the pads were a deep, bruised red from all of the cutting and restitching she’d done over the past few days.
Gunston had stopped by the other day and was thrilled at her progress with the alterations. Midori had watched the excitement on his face but had not been able to join in. He’d praised her, told her it was exactly what he’d wanted, that she’d achieved hi
