A once-prized Dolce and Gabbana handbag lying in the corner of the bathroom floor, stained in tiny, makeup-covered fingerprints, empty, save two bright hair ties for little girl braids.

Fucking Falsies

God fucking damnit. Mia pulled the false lashes off for the second time. Glue made fine stringy lines before snapping and sticking to her eyelid, mixing with mascara. She was not off to a good start. Still, at least she wasn’t in a rush. There was exactly one hour before the shoot and an Uber…