Madame Isabelle closed her eyes.
At that moment, she was transported back to 28 years ago. Her gray hair gleamed in dark blonde that reached her chin. She had pulled it at the roots and used hairspray to add volume. Then, she finished it with a big swoop at the tips. Her wardrobe consisted of a black elegance from the 60s.
"What's all this ruckus about?!" She yelled. Her heels clacked on the pavement as she marched over to the store next door. "For grown men, you're acting like immature children."
"Oh, stay out of this, Isabelle!" Taylor grumbled with a scratch of his balding head. "I'm in the middle of something here. Buy the produce tomorrow like everyone else. You can't always get special treatment."
"Is this how you should treat a good neighbor?" Madame Isabelle shot back. Her red lips curled into a smirk. "I have you know that I—"
