When Rachel got home she dropped her purse – with a pair of theater tickets inside – by the door. Freckles greeted her with his usual demanding meows, and she hastened into the kitchen to put down his daily allotment of wet food.
He tucked in eagerly but Rachel skipped her usual microwave dinner and went back to the bedroom instead.
Once in her room, Rachel started getting ready for her outing. From the back of her closet she fished out a short, slinky black dress that she hadn’t worn since her freshman year of college. Her dresser yielded appropriate undergarments – black panties and a matching strapless bra – and Rachel selected her mother’s silver earrings and necklace out of her very small jewelry box.
Then she stripped out of her work clothes and changed into her dress, brushed out and braided her hair, and went to the bathroom mirror to check the result.
She was, of course, stunning. For that matter, she had been stunning in just her work clothes – and when Rachel dressed for work, she dressed demurely. Now she radiated the kind of beauty typically found only in photo-manipulated fashion magazine covers.
"I should have stopped to get makeup," she muttered to herself – even though anyone else could’ve seen she didn’t need it at all. She bit her lip and studied her reflection for flaws. When she didn’t find any she turned away agitatedly and went back to the closet to dig out her lone pair of strappy, open-toed high heels.
Then, since she had plenty of time before the show and knew she’d drown in anxiety if she didn’t distract herself, she went to her computer and logged into clan chat to find a game.