My Sister’s Substitute
" Inside was a gown.
Black. Floor-length. One-shoulder. The kind of dress that requires no jewelry, no other accoutrements, no accessories, because it already says everything it needs to.
Irina reached out and touched the fabric. "Dominique," she said, quietly.
"I know."
"This is-"
"I know."
"Okay." Irina took a breath. "Let's go."
Three hours later, Priya stepped back from Irina's face, tilted her head, and assessed the results critically-she was a no-nonsense kind of woman-before concluding, "Okay yeah. We did that."
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