“So you’re… not the stripper?” Fucking finally, he gets it. Trying to claw back some semblance of dignity, I cleared my throat and lifted my chin. “No. I’m not the stripper.” The elastic of the party hat I’d completely forgotten I was still wearing chose that moment to snap. The hat pinged up off my head and into the air as we both stood there in agonising silence, before the pointy end of the cone hit the floor with a sad, anticlimactic tap.
