“Ohmygod!” Alix formed fists with both hands on the table. “You have no idea what you’re talking about. She asked! I lent her a shirt!” “You lend her the same shirt? Every day? In the business we call that a uniform.” “You are so completely out of line.” Alix had started her day in Manhattan, ready to tell Kelley, I know who you really are. But now she sat in Philadelphia, participating in a losing game called “Which One of Us Is Actually More Racist?”
