Tiffany had been shown through to the empty hotel restaurant. She could see the movement of people, drinks and dresses in the bar through a narrow archway and mingling cigarette smoke.
The high ceilinged restaurant, despite it's dark wood furniture and neon artwork, was sterile in comparison. She waited. Her own dress ruffled and fanned around her. She rubbed the skirt between her finger and thumb for comfort. This was the dress she had dreamed of. A black mermaid of a dress.
It was lady enough for the restaurant, but edgy enough that she could have walked into the bar and turned heads for being a better version of one of them- glitzy, glamorous, confident and urbane- not a grubby girl with no money or contacts from the back of beyond and nowhere. She took a deep breath and reminded herself that that was because she wasn't. Not anymore.
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