“Where’s your dress?” he asked. I pointed toward the dark blue modest dress hanging on the door. It was one of the dresses Aunt Egidia had bought for me a couple of years back. It was the safe choice. Nino shook his head once. He walked into our walk-in closet and emerged a few minutes later with the long red silk dress I bought a few weeks ago.
Nino the dresser got me dead
