Pearls can worn with anything. They lay against my throat in a double strand of memory and wealth, slightly yellowed with age but lustrous with accumulated wisdom. They are the only thing I wear besides underwear that never matches and a thousand league stare. That look is too old for the rest of me.
"May!" The call comes from the other side of the door. "Five minutes!"
Catcher always sounds like he's speaking through a mouthful of bourbon, halfway between drowning and fire. I listen to the bumbling tread of his footsteps as he wheels away from the door and up the rickety steps to the piano lounge. Five minutes. It is not a whole lot of time, but I continue to watch the mirror anyway. I make a hungry reflection.
The dress is donned with fast moving hands, pinching and tugging until the zipper stops. Frail silk clings to my body, wrapping me up in the color of an aching sky. I don't need to look back at the mirror to know what it does to me. Ellie May Temple has been transformed into a spotlight. Mama would be proud.
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