Karma Arrives in White Silk
Twenty minutes before the first dance, Jade appeared at my table, panic written across her face.
“Amelia, come with me. Now.”
In the restroom, she turned, and I saw it — her overpriced designer gown split wide open down the back seam, white lace underwear glaring through the gap.
Tears streaked her foundation. “Please. You’re the only one who can fix this. I’ll die if I have to walk out there like this.”
For a moment, I just looked at the tear. Cheap workmanship under a luxury label. The irony was sharp enough to taste.
Then I pulled my emergency sewing kit from my bag. “Stand still. Don’t breathe deeply.”
Ten minutes on my knees in a bathroom stall, stitching under my phone’s flashlight, and the seam was flawless again.
