She pushes away her quilt in a grump and painfully gets out of bed. She’s already late for her date but she couldn’t care less. She lets the kettle scream for a little while before she tears it out of the stove. In front of the mirror, she fashions a killer look.
When she gets in her car, her door knocks the van next to her. It leaves a little dent in the paint. She makes a mental note to find another parking spot when she comes back.
She was supposed to meet up with her new flirt more than an hour ago. Going now would make her late for her whole day. He’s probably gone already anyway. And if he’s still waiting, well then he’s a fool who needs to get a life. She doesn’t want to go on a date with a fool who needs to get a life. He’ll realise that she won’t show up, sooner or later.
At the till, she finally changes her mind. The saleswoman made a not-so-nice comment about her waist, in the changing room. She doesn’t want the jumper she’s already paid for, and would like the trousers in a different colour. The saleswoman cancels the transaction, puts the jumper on the side, and sends her colleague to get a new pair of trousers. She doesn’t like the new colour, she’ll take the first pair. She’d like the jumper, also, actually, but with the V-neck. The saleswoman complies with her wishes. She pays. She looks in the bag. These trousers weren’t a good idea, in the end. She hands them back to the saleswoman, saying that she’ll take the jumper though. And a necklace. The one with the big beads over there. Can you go get it for me. When she’s just about to leave she notices that one of the beads is slightly chipped. She asks for a discount.
She doesn’t stop when the Unicef bloke tries to make her donate for his cause. Does he really think he can save the world with ten names on a list and 80€? A young show-off deliberately bumps against her. She hurries her pace a little to catch up with the high-heeled bitch and grabs her arm. Hey there, they didn’t teach you to apologise when you knock into someone, at Dior’s? Just because your beautician works hard on your spots three hours a week for the daily income of Angola doesn’t mean you can do anything you want. And also, young lady, if you can’t walk in stilettos, just wear flats, it’ll spare you a lot of public shame. Apparently, they didn’t teach you that either, at Dior’s… See, it’s no good being loaded when you’re stupid, it just brings attention on things you should want to hide. And by the way, people have stopped wearing jackets this colour about 20 years ago, even when they’re from Dior.
She sees that it’s time to go to work. Her class starts in fifteen minutes. This group is such a drag. They’re amorphous and they don’t understand a thing. She takes the direction opposite to the school. They’ll have to do without her today.
In her car on the way back, she tells herself that she won’t get what soothes her down today, yet again. She puts on a CD, and closes her eyes. She lets the music and her blind car lead her into the traffic.
When she gets in her car, her door knocks the van next to her. It leaves a little dent in the paint. She makes a mental note to find another parking spot when she comes back.
She was supposed to meet up with her new flirt more than an hour ago. Going now would make her late for her whole day. He’s probably gone already anyway. And if he’s still waiting, well then he’s a fool who needs to get a life. She doesn’t want to go on a date with a fool who needs to get a life. He’ll realise that she won’t show up, sooner or later.
At the till, she finally changes her mind. The saleswoman made a not-so-nice comment about her waist, in the changing room. She doesn’t want the jumper she’s already paid for, and would like the trousers in a different colour. The saleswoman cancels the transaction, puts the jumper on the side, and sends her colleague to get a new pair of trousers. She doesn’t like the new colour, she’ll take the first pair. She’d like the jumper, also, actually, but with the V-neck. The saleswoman complies with her wishes. She pays. She looks in the bag. These trousers weren’t a good idea, in the end. She hands them back to the saleswoman, saying that she’ll take the jumper though. And a necklace. The one with the big beads over there. Can you go get it for me. When she’s just about to leave she notices that one of the beads is slightly chipped. She asks for a discount.
She doesn’t stop when the Unicef bloke tries to make her donate for his cause. Does he really think he can save the world with ten names on a list and 80€? A young show-off deliberately bumps against her. She hurries her pace a little to catch up with the high-heeled bitch and grabs her arm. Hey there, they didn’t teach you to apologise when you knock into someone, at Dior’s? Just because your beautician works hard on your spots three hours a week for the daily income of Angola doesn’t mean you can do anything you want. And also, young lady, if you can’t walk in stilettos, just wear flats, it’ll spare you a lot of public shame. Apparently, they didn’t teach you that either, at Dior’s… See, it’s no good being loaded when you’re stupid, it just brings attention on things you should want to hide. And by the way, people have stopped wearing jackets this colour about 20 years ago, even when they’re from Dior.
She sees that it’s time to go to work. Her class starts in fifteen minutes. This group is such a drag. They’re amorphous and they don’t understand a thing. She takes the direction opposite to the school. They’ll have to do without her today.
In her car on the way back, she tells herself that she won’t get what soothes her down today, yet again. She puts on a CD, and closes her eyes. She lets the music and her blind car lead her into the traffic.
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