Valeria rested her head against the white and gold wall and closed her eyes. The bridal salon was a direct vision from the depths of hell, and everyone in it was a demon. The owner, a heavily made up woman in her sixties with graying hair piled on top of her head, might have been Satan. The consultants, all with glistening lips that pulled back from their huge teeth in rictuses that passed for smiles and hair that reeked of spray, they were lesser demons, but they were demons nevertheless. All of the random tulle, that was just to disguise the pools of molten lava. Valeria was sure of it.
A figure cast a shadow across her closed eyes, so Valeria opened them. “Ms. Tremblay?” The speaker was one of the consultants. She wore less pink than the others. Her smile was less forced, and she held
