Marked by fate
Her cream pencil skirt and white blouse are immaculate and elegant, and suddenly I feel painfully self-conscious about my shorts and Converse.
“Vivien, lovely to see you as always,” Alison says, shaking her hand.
“This is Zahra,” she adds, patting my shoulder as she introduces me.
I shake Vivien’s hand as well, and she smiles warmly.
“Well, everything is ready for you, if you’d like to follow me.”
Ready?
I thought we were shopping.
She leads us into the back of the shop through a curtained doorway and into a massive room. Four doors are set into the walls, there’s a raised circular platform in the centre, and mirrors cover almost every surface.
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