Abby
I’m still standing completely frozen to my spot, clutching the photographer’s belongings. I’m not sure what to do with them; it seems as though the photographer thought I was some sort of assistant, and he scurried away before I could hand his things back.
I look around for a moment, finally settling on a nearby chair to set the things on; but it’s too late. Gianna has seen me, her hunter-like eyes spotting me amongst the crowd.
And she’s coming my way.
Her heels click obnoxiously on the floor and her overly sweet perfume overwhelms my senses. I feel myself stiffen as she saunters up to me, still holding the photographer’s belongings in my arms.
“Oh, there you are,” Gianna says, shrugging off her fur coat. “Be a darling and hang this up for me, won’t you?”
Before I can protest,
