As I slip into a sparkly dress, I realize how poorly I packed. But shimmery showgirl attire is all I owned—all I grabbed in my haste to get out of Nashville. After dabbing my cheeks and lips with dusky-rose blush, and adding mascara to my lashes, I stare at myself in the mirror. My hair, now the color of honey and ash, tumbles in unruly waves. I chance a smile. I love it.
