Artemisia
“Oh, dear Goddess.”
I jump as Alberta shows up behind me as I am examining my ball gown, which must have been delivered to me just in time for Fynn to trash it.
So mean.
The red fabric adorned with the little gems is now just a witness of how sharp claws can be. By all the tears, and seeing that the middle is nearly cut through, it is actually remarkable how it is still hanging against my closet as one item.
She recovers herself pretty quickly as she walks into my walk-in wardrobe wearing an encouraging smile. “Nothing a pair of talented hands can’t fix.”
“Your optimism is golden, Alberta.” I laugh, passing my fingers over the shredded fabric hanging on a cloth hanger. “Thank you.”
Sighing, I shake my head as I feel like I'm trapped in some strange and unromantic ada
