I was told to sit, and I obeyed. I don't want to get into anyone's bad books. The ladies I met brought out their makeup items. They didn't have any conversation with me, and I felt like saying something. I don't know where to begin. I know I need to choose my words wisely. I don't want them to report me to the old witch if I ask something off-point.
I summoned the courage and said, "How long have you two been working for the boss?" I thought they would disregard my question, but instead, they looked at each other before turning to answer. "It's been two years now," one said.
"Oh," I muttered. "Do you often come to make up other girls too?" The other shrugged. "Mostly, we do it based on demand. The boss has several girls. It's normal to us. We do our job and leave without asking questions."
"Oh," I said again, feeling bad. He has other girls. I should have known. Why do I even care? It's not like he cares about me too.
