I wore red lipstick yesterday, not something I normally do with this big mouth of mine. But I'd found a shade that suited me; I applied it carefully, blotted it with tissue, added a little gloss. I tried smiling in the mirror, a sad smile. Still, I thought the lipstick looked okay; striking, certainly. Different. I left the bathroom mirror and stood self-consciously in front of you. "I'm ready— shall we go?" you glanced up, said "yes" and we left the apartment walking together but not close enough to touch.
