Mint Stained Shirt Novels & Stories

And then, I saw it. Wedged beneath a piece of jagged rebar was a small, tattered scrap of navy-blue fabric. It was heavy cotton, stained with soot and a dark, dried crimson. My heart stopped. I recognised the pattern, the subtle weave of the fabric. It was a piece of Daniel’s favourite shirt, the one he always wore under his tactical vest because he said the cotton helped him stay grounded.

“That’s a six-hundred-dollar shirt! You have to make sure that stain gets out. I can’t afford someone cleaning that!” Fuck. Six hundred dollars? Even double and triple tabs wouldn’t cover it. “Okay,” I whisper, my voice trembling. I turn around to the table, which now looks similar to a murder scene. I throw the napkins on the table to soak up what I can, almost tripping over one of Madden’s friends in my haste to get to his bloody shirt. The stain is huge—a dark, spreading purple blotch across his crisp shirt. Shit! “That’s not going to work,” he mutters, shaking his head. “Can I clean this somewhere?”

she said. "Yes, Mariposa. We'll watch. You're great too, go ahead and be careful!" "Don't worry we're only here when you need back up. The beauty of your new prosthetics, can abort jaws when seen by men," said by one of her colleagues. "All right, I'll be out. It's up to you to pay the club manager." Mariposa came out. She was wearing a fitted red dress that was above the knee, suitable for her because her whiteness was more pronounced.

She hoped that Sean would be back soon. Damian watched as Lilian left in a hurry and put the tablet away in his drawer. He was trying to see if the could manage without the sling and he was doing pretty well for himself so far. Only slight pains here and there. He turned back to his shirts to decide which one he was going to wear. The color theme for the party was black, a horrible choice of course. It was a party, no one was dying. White was obviously out of the question. It was way too expected. Blue was not going to cut it either. He went for the dark red shirt. It looked menacing and it was a least expected colour anyway. He wanted to stand out.

He saw that of course. "What's that?" "Your favorite shirt. I brought it." What ?! My favorite shirt is Zenitra brand and it is worth A dollars! and that's only in the US! He must kid! I suddenly pulled out the Zenitra paper bag! and looked at it! Peach color and yes! it is my fav shirt that even daddy never bought to me! "Oh my!" I almost screamed and covered my mouth. All grief was thrown away and replaced by joy! I saw him smirk.

I added, "If you keep licking cheaply made lipstick, you'll end up with lead poisoning." Yves changed into a new shirt before coming up with a poor excuse. He said, "Don't misunderstand. Melissa fell, and I just happened to catch her." "Really? She just happened to fall on your shirt collar? What a coincidence. "It seems like it won't wash off. This shirt is custom and handmade in Kintaly. Melissa probably can't even afford it with several years' worth of her salary," I said. I raised my brows and looked at Yves.

I instinctively began apologizing, even as his face turned darker with every word i spit out. "Sure, go ahead." He said darkly, my heart stopped for a second. "What?" "Go ahead and replace the shirt, but i Will have you know that this is a limited edition new Cismst shirt, it was sown by the renowned Italian fashion designer, you should know that." Boom.

“It does. I love this look. I will take whatever colors you have.” “Perfect. The shorts are just black and a black and white pin stripped. The tank is black, white, a dark teal and a deep pink color.” “Oh! Get the pink!” Justina yelled. Scrunching up my nose, I wasn’t a fan of that idea. There was a knock on the door. When she opened the door, a man stood on the other side that gave off danger vibes.

Turning back to him, I smirked and did a little turn to show him fully what I was wearing. The top was a long sleeved buttoned shirt in the color of white buthas embroidery of leaves at the lower part of it, the threads used were the color of black. Then the slacks were reaching my ankles and it is in the color of Antique Brass giving that vintage vibes. The shoes that I wore were Off White Kitten Heels.my hair was freely flowing down and all in all, I Could say that I am that casually dressed but still professional looking business owner. “Does it not lookso amazing?” I asked them as Isat on my chair and started with the documents.

As the client peeled back the packaging and beheld the gentle hue and meticulous craftsmanship, her eyes widened with delight. “I love this color! What do you call it?” “Oatmeal,” Isabella replied. “Would you like to try it on?” The client eagerly extracted the gown, revealing an accompanying undershirt. “What’s this?” “This is a specially designed undershirt to complement the oatmeal - colored cashmere coat,” Isabella explained. “If you don’t mind, it’s my token of appreciation. However, as a complimentary item, it may not match the exact quality of the coat, but it still holds a touch of the style that’s become my signature, influenced by the beauty and mystery of the werewolf world.”