Is that really what the back of my head looks like?
“Please, make yourselves comfortable,” Säsha says. “I’ll bring the dress.”
She disappears through another door. Jillian flops onto the settee. “This place is bonkers,” she whispers. “Do you think they have snacks?”
“I am focused,” she swears. “I’m focused on snacks.”
I shuffle around uncomfortably, unsure whether to sit or stand or, I dunno, assume some sort of position. I feel like I’m at the gynecologist’s office—part of me thinks there’s an unspoken understanding that I’m supposed to undress, but the other part of me is lowkey terrified that Säsha is going to come back and be like, Uh, ma’am, why are you naked?
Before I can make up my mind on the question of disrobing, Säsha returns. She’s carrying a garment bag, long and black. S
