Her fingers flew, digging in the stained floral makeup bag for a tube bright red lipstick. Fingers shaking, she slicked on the color, before flipping her head upside down to volumize her curled hair. Outside the bathroom, he was at the table, menu in hand, waiting patiently. Their first date. His first impression.
The flower was drooping in it’s multicolored glass vase, and Krystal watched it, her own face falling. It had only been two days since he left. The flower was her only reminder of his dimpled cheeks, crooked smile, and tousled brown hair.