“But do you like it?” says the youngest assistant, seemingly oblivious to Gerald’s icy stare.
I don’t actually, but Gerald, who always chooses my clothes, does.
The other girls, Gerald’s fawning fan-club, the simperati, rush to endorse his selection.
“Fits you perfectly…”
“Perhaps in a different colour?” I murmur tentatively, though I know the dress just isn’t me.
“It’s just not you,” declares the young assistant.
“I think you’re right,” I say.
Gerald bundles me out of the shop; the simperati round on their colleague.
In different ways, we’ve both reached the end of the road.
I was listening to an interview on Woman’s Hour yesterday (yes I’m that kind of person) by the author of Look What You Made Me Do, a personal memoir of how she managed to get involved in coercive relationships not once, but twice. Gripping stuff, and it’s kind of stuck in my mind so I was already working on this idea when the photo popped up this morning. Good timing, Rochelle, leader and herder-in-chief of Friday Fictioneers. 🙂