Myra dropped the hair curler on the bathroom sink, and stepped back, her short hair now in loose waves.
As she shrugged into the champagne gold mini dress, she heard the front door ring. A small smile raised the corner of her lips.
Atlas was here.
She picked out a small lady pistol and fitted it in the thigh holster strapped tightly around her upper thigh, then smoothened her dress down as she looked at her reflection in the mirror.
The dress was made of a light and filmy material that sparkled at every angle she turned. Although somewhat loose, the cinched waist caused the fabric to lay easily on her skin, outlining her curves.
She sighed and turned away, scared to stare too much in the mirror.
It would be a disaster if she suddenly felt that disassociation she did yesterday.
As
