‘Coming through!’ A young woman with long, blonde hair and heavy, pencilled eyebrows manoeuvres past a hen party of glamorous 1920s flappers. ‘Here you go!’ She hands me a drink with bobbing ice cubes and a piece of lime.
I study the violets, electric greens, azures, teals and aquamarines that make up my face and hair – each diamond shape lovingly painted bar four left untouched on my right cheek.
Bar four? Typo?
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