Chapter 22 We Are Painting The Whole Damm Thing Black

• Today was the day of the show. The Virelli show, the most awaited show of the couture calendar.
• The atmosphere in the backstage rooms was frantic . The makeup artists running with brushes clenched between their teeth, assistants balancing hangers of glittering gowns, hairdressers tugging at curling irons as though time itself was slipping through their fingers. The smell of perfume, hairspray, and nerves filled the air. Every year this couture show decided which models would rise and which would fade into the black hole of the entertainment industry, and tonight was no exception.
• Seraphina sat calmly in her chair as a makeup artist dusted highlighter across her cheekbones, though her fingers twisted nervously in her lap. The gown she was meant to wear had been sent in earlier that morning and sealed in a protective bag to avoid any mistakes. So when Clara came rushing back with it, face pale, she knew something was terribly wrong.