Tanya glared at the woman behind the counter: a pear-shaped matron of enormous girth, hair fried from too many perms, triple chin and sagging jowls in full evidence beneath hard eyes. She wore a bright multi-stripe shirt with alternating floral and geometric patterns that strained across her midsection and looked positively vulgar, Tanya decided – and then she caught Lis’ eye, and blushed in shame.
“You are so shallow,” Lis whispered in her ear, “and I hope you know that.”
“But I have that same shirt in my closet at home!” hissed Tanya, hardly caring whether the stranger heard her or not. “I swear – I will never wear that thing again.”