Damsel in the Red Dress

Pink Wrapper

"Just make sure you have the prints by Monday and we'll bring them with us. It would be fine either way, but I never trust the mail not to destroy my packages."

"Same," I sigh, raising my eyebrows in exasperated emphasis. Shannon opens the door for me as I step out into the Antarctic lobby.

"Get home safe, okay?"

"You too," I wave one hand as the door closes behind me.

Somehow it's warmer on the sidewalk than it was in the office building. I imagine it has something to do with the asphalt absorbing the abnormally warm December sun - but I'm not a science person. I don't pretend to understand how "magnification" works - or if that's even a word.

I turn the corner toward the mall and step into the first coffee shop I see to get myself something warm to drink. My phone buzzes in my coat pocket.

Kattar's ringer.

About time.

I slide the frozen cell from my pocket as I wait my turn in line and read the brief text.

"Are you busy?"

I think about saying yes, but that's not entirely true. I can get coffee anywhere - and I can make my copies anytime between today and Monday.

"No. Why?"

"I was wondering if you could come over and help me decorate. My mom's still in San Diego, but I want to have the place set up before the 25th."

That's right. Christmas is this Wednesday.

"Sure."

I'd almost forgotten. Not that I was in any hurry. I already have Kattar and Mrs. Moon's presents purchased by New Year's Eve of the year before.

I get my aunt's present sometime in the summer when I'm shopping for her birthday present.

I never buy anything for Natividad.

I go home before I go to Kattar's place to change out of my suit and high heels.

The only clean thing left is this pink dress I bought who-knows-when. It's designed to look like a wrap dress but fastened firmly on all sides - an assurance I definitely need.

Once in my life, I've endured the horror of a wrap dress coming unwrapped as I left the bathroom. Fortunately, I live alone, but that was more than enough to steer me away from real wrap dresses for good, though I still like the style.

I still like the dress - except that it's sleeveless. There's a scar on my left shoulder that runs down onto my back which will be too obvious to all eyes in this dress. I'll have to keep my coat on.

I slip it over my head and tie the belt - which, considering that it's a dress, serves no greater purpose than defining your waist if you happen to have one. It's just a thick sash really, made of a glossy pink fabric, and held to the outfit by an insufficient amount of gossamer thin loops sewed into the waist and standing up in tiny arcs like the legs of a daddy-long leg, but the jacket at least, will cover up those.

Kattar has the heat cranked up to 90 degrees when I arrive, and yet he's still wearing a crocheted hoodie his mother bought him for his birthday a few years back, looking like a member of a 2000s boyband.

"Aye caramba. Are you trying to air-fry the furniture?" I grumble, taking my shoes off at the door out of habit.

Kattar shrugs. "I'm always cold these days."

"In this inferno?" I check his temperature with my hand. His rosiness certainly looks less healthy than normal. "You don't have a fever."

"It's my mother's genes getting to me," he says, almost recoiling at the touch. He smiles a little awkwardly, "I'm okay, really"