#Chapter124
Downtown, past the slow-paced standstill of inner-city rush hour, Sally's boutique bore witness to an epic pre-tantrum. Clothes spilt over the swinging doors of the narrow changing room, and the bubbly atmosphere that had circulated the dainty establishment was rapidly fermenting into a sour pus stain.
The cause?
The stupid fucking mirror and its cruel games of indecisiveness.
/"Fuck!/" Ronan yelled, throwing a silky garment on the ground. It hit the crimson carpet in a disrespectful heap, and as he pressed the heels of his palms against his eyes, breathing heavily, he reminded himself the price tag was far too high to be tossing them around like trash.
/"Babes./" A rap sounded from the outside of the doors. /"Just get whatever you want. All of it if you can't decide./"
