Charlotte popped in her charmingly shabby apartment and laid her diploma on the bistrot table.
A turquoise handbag, accessorized with a pompom key holder stood on the almost antic shelf upon a Carré Hermes.
The flush ran and her mother made her entrance. Her smile did not move any wrinkle in the corner of her green doll eyes.
She raised a hand to fix Charlotte’s messy hair but met only silent rebuke and spasmic impatience.
– Don’t be a child. It’s time to come back home.
– But Mother, I love him.
– Oh don’t worry honey, this too shall pass.