The lady seemed to like me. She kept laughing at me, almost giving me the doting 'ajumma' look at times. She seemed very interested to know more about me, kept egging me on to divulge more, even tried to dole out some marital advice.
She said I reminded her of her, said she saw a younger version of herself when I spoke.
I was flattered, but really I ought to be wary. She could be just fakin' it.
After all, like they always say, the fashion industry is a bitchy one. You can't be too sweet, too nice to survive it.
Wait a minute.
Does that mean I have potential to make a good bitch?
Maybe.
Better a bitch than a sweetie-pie everyone pokes a finger in.
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