And then the lights dimmed. I was back in boarding school again, standing outside the big walk-in closet that everyone in my dormitory shared. I was thirteen years old.
I could hear the girls giggling inside, swapping clothes with each other. I never swapped clothes with them, but I observed them doing it. I didn't care much for fashion at that age.
I walked into the closet to find three girls holding up my favorite polka dot skirt. I loved that skirt. My grandma used to be a seamstress. She'd sewn it for me in blue and white fabric, with cute little bows on each side. I liked blue. My eyes were blue. I thought it looked nice.
But there they were, holding it up and rolling on the floor, laughing. "It's so ugly!" they cried. "Just like her." The girls only stopped when they saw me in the doorway.
I quickly turned around and walked in the opposite direction, choking back the tears that threatened to leak from my eyes.
