Nefretiri
The dress was being wasted on my couch.
As I huddled in the plush cushions, the skirt of the red dress bunched up under me, I couldn't care less about my appearance. My makeup was ruined, mascara streaking down my face, but being on the phone and knowing Ivan was on the other end was all that mattered. The past few days, I wasn't allowed to be vulnerable or weak, so being allowed to cry was a release I was grateful for. I just hated that this was what we were talking about.
