If it was any other time, or any other place, she’d be the panoply of style. She wasn’t anywhere else, and this wasn’t any other time. She wasn’t elsewhere, no. Not New York, not Paris, not even London.
Once the darling of the runway, now just the darling of the laundromat.
Sipping on her cold coke-cola, she shifted her eyes rightward to the boy she came home to, and she smiled.