That was the first time I met that woman.
She was wearing a sky blue dress that touched her breasts, and a pair of Dior's new white pointed-toe high-heeled shoes that made her ankles and legs more slender and elegant. Her exposed skin was white and flawless, and every bit of it looked like it had been carefully drawn to perfection by a painter.
I shouldn't have gone to that coffee shop to sign a contract that day, and I shouldn't have looked at her that way.
I know that she is a disaster, and I will never escape it in this life.