Bloody Heart

Name: Bloody Heart
Brand: Akash Hossain
SKU: 6716646

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7050709Bloody Hearthttps://www.gandhi.com.mx/bloody-heart-1230007098499/phttps://gandhi.vtexassets.com/arquivos/ids/6608432/image.jpg?v=638655112883970000MXNAkash HossainInStock/Ebooks/SIMONE SOLOMONSimone! Why arent you ready?My mother stands in the doorway, already dressed for the party.By contrast, Im wearing sweat shorts and a Wonder Woman t-shirt, because I was curled up in my window seat, lost in a book.What time is it? I ask, confused.What time do you think it is? Mama says, smiling slightly.I would have said two or three in the afternoon, but the fact that shes already put on her evening gown clues me in that it must be later....6716646Bloody Heart00https://www.gandhi.com.mx/bloody-heart-1230007098499/phttps://gandhi.vtexassets.com/arquivos/ids/6608432/image.jpg?v=638655112883970000InStockMXN99999DIEbook20231230007098499_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_SIMONE SOLOMONSimone! Why arent you ready?My mother stands in the doorway, already dressed for the party.By contrast, Im wearing sweat shorts and a Wonder Woman t-shirt, because I was curled up in my window seat, lost in a book.What time is it? I ask, confused.What time do you think it is? Mama says, smiling slightly.I would have said two or three in the afternoon, but the fact that shes already put on her evening gown clues me in that it must be later.Uh . . . six? I guess.Try seven-thirty.Sorry! I say, jumping up from the window, knocking my copy of Wuthering Heights onto the carpet.No wonder Im starving. I missed lunch, and apparently dinner too. Youd better hurry, Mama says. Your father already called for thecar.The car is waiting, actually, my father says.He stands next to Mama. Theyre the most elegant pair imaginable both tall, slim, impeccably dressed. His rich, dark coloring next to her fairness is the only contrast between them. Otherwise, theyre perfectly matched.Sometimes my father wears bright Kente cloth on formal occasions. Tonight hes dressed in a black tuxedo with a velvet lapel. The lavender calla lily in his boutonnire is the exact shade of my mothers gown.Next to their sleek perfection, I feel like Im all elbows and knees. Too awkward to even be seen with them.Maybe you should go on without me . . . I say. Nice try, Mama says. Hurry and get dressed.I stifle my groan. At first, I was excited to be home from boarding school. Chicago seemed like a whirlwind of parties, galas, and events. Now, only a few months later, theyre all starting to blur together. Im tired of champagne and canapés, polite conversation, and even politer dancing. Plus, I wish my sister came along more often.Is Serwa coming? I ask Mama.No, she says, a small line forming between her eyebrows. Shes not having a very good day.My parents leave me alone to dress.I have a whole closet of gowns to choose from, most of them bought this year. I run my fingertips down the rainbow of fabric, trying to choose quickly.I could spend an hour like this. Im a bit of a daydreamer, and I love beautiful things. Especially clothes.An interest in fashion can be perceived as frivolous. In my mind, clothes are wearable art. Theyre the statement that precedes you into every room. Theyre the tools that shape peoples perception before youve spoken a word.Thats how I would describe it to anybody else.To myself, they mean so much more than that.I have an intense reaction to color and texture. They create a mood inside of me. I dont like to admit it to anyone, because I know its . . .strange. Most people dont feel physically repulsed by an unattractive shade of puce. And they dont feel an irresistible desire to touch silk or velvet.Ive always been that way, as long as I can remember. Ive just learned how to hide it.I have to force myself to grab a dress, without poring over them for ages.I take one of my favorites, a pale rose gown with fluttering chiffon down the back that reminds me of a butterflys wings.I dust on a little pink blush, and lip gloss in the same shade. Not too muchmy father doesnt like me to dress overly mature. I only just turned eighteen....(*_*)1230007098499_SIMONE SOLOMONSimone! Why arent you ready?My mother stands in the doorway, already dressed for the party.By contrast, Im wearing sweat shorts and a Wonder Woman t-shirt, because I was curled up in my window seat, lost in a book.What time is it? I ask, confused.What time do you think it is? Mama says, smiling slightly.I would have said two or three in the afternoon, but the fact that shes already put on her evening gown clues me in that it must be later....1230007098499_Akash Hossainlibro_electonico_1230007098499_1230007098499AKASH HOSSAINInglésMéxicohttps://getbook.kobo.com/koboid-prod-public/a319fce3-8d95-4126-b436-2fea7bb080cd-epub-f766a4f4-5b9f-423d-84dc-7940c58b24a4.epub2023-11-24T00:00:00+00:00Akash Hossain