Simona’s car was filled with buttons and gadgets I’d never seen before. Almost no sound came from the engine as we headed west on I-40. We listened to NPR while I concentrated on paperwork. Anything to avoid thinking about the fiasco that had taken place earlier.
She’d brought me a simple pair of chinos and a black button-down shirt similar to what I’d been wearing earlier. She was right; it fit perfectly. I had wiped the flour off my black leather shoes and looked in the bathroom mirror before we left. I was surprised at the image. The woman staring back at me looked polished and professional, instead of my usual bland, thrift store self. Wherever she got her clothes, they cut them to bring out your shape. I felt uncomfortable with my body image, but seeing myself in tailored clothing ca
