Colour. Part 12

He was late. I paced in the apartment, peering at myself in our tiny mirror above our sofa.

I looked so unlike me in the cream dress that I wondered if Morgan was trying to be helpful or devious. I looked much older in it. She had done my makeup, smearing coppery eye shadow over my lids that made my brown eyes pop. Natural glowing blush was applied to my cheeks and a nice, nude lip gloss made my lips shimmer. I had to keep telling myself to not touch my face, just one of my many nervous gestures.

Morgan came out in a red dress that displayed a lot more of her breasts than I’d ever seen. She must have applied some self-tanner because she looked much darker and luscious. The red against her skin was to die for. Instantly I knew she was going out to see someone, and I was sure, judging by the resigned expression on her face, it was a new “companion”.

“What’s he like?” I asked, foregoing beating around the bush.

“Old,” she sighed. “The ones I find are always old.”