My heart beat erratically against my ribcage as I read the note. A smile proudly announced itself on my face as I traced the tips of the paper. I read the note over and over again until I was convinced.
Were things actually getting better?
Hurriedly, I slipped into the black dress and began to fix my hair. In moments like this, I began to miss all the hair stylists, make-up artists, and staff that would tend to me when I needed to get ready. Whether I liked to admit it or not, they certainly made things easier for me. Most of all, I missed Felicia.
Yes, I had professionals who dressed me up for events back home but I refused to be rendered useless. Before they came along I did things myself so why should anything be different now?
Determined, I set up all the tools I would need on a sm
