Free Falling
“Oh my God… what am I doing here?” I blurt. “Finding a man,” Amanda reminds me with a cheeky grin. “I have cats,” I deadpan. Is my skirt too short? Is the zit on my forehead bulging through my concealer? Amanda takes my hand in hers because I keep fidgeting. “You look fantastic, and your zit’s still incognito.” Though I might sweat off three layers of spackle-like concealer, I’m more
