Where is it?
My eyes dart frantically about my messed-up room, littered with several scrapings of tattered clothing material and every gadget known in fashion design littered about every nook and cranny of my once tidy bedroom.
“Where the f**k is my chalk?” I muttered to myself, kicking off a pile of tattered fabric, my eyes still scanning about for the tiny bit of blue chalk I used to demacate my clothing.
“Aha!” I exclaimed triumphantly, my eyes spotting it from where I had kept it on my book shelf. I grabbed it swiftly, rushing to my mannequin to make the readjustment that needed to be done to the bodice of my latest project.
My bedroom door creeked open as Nicholas stepped in.
“Good grief! It’s a pig sty in here.” His gaze narrowed in on mine,
“What’s going on here, Carina?”
