It had been 2 hours.
We were late. Nothing new, really.
“Are you ready.” I shouted up from the living-room.
“Yes, damnit, I’m almost done,” she retorted.
“You’ve been in there for nearly 2 hours,”
“It’s not been that long!”
“2 hours!” I iterated.
“Ok, maybe an hour and a bit!” she countered.
“An hour plus another hour, maybe honey. I told Jim we’d be there an hour ago.”
“Jesus,” a heavy sigh came out of the bathroom, “You try having hair like this and make it right, baldy—then try to paint your face on – it has to be perfect. You’ve seen Jim’s wife – always so perfect and gorgeous… Gah, she pisses me off”
3 inch heels came with loud announcement down the stairs, and she showed herself in all of her glory. Hair, curled to perfection, with pouty lips, wearing her favorite shirt, with the low-cut v-neck and smelling of Alfred Sung. worthy of 2 hrs.
“How do i look,” she asked openning the front door.
I hadn’t the heart to tell her she’d forgotten to put her pants on.
“You look amazing,”