We'd spent a hot afternoon trailing around the city centre clothes shops, trying to find something she could wear to that evening's party. I said she'd look great in a bin bag, but she wasn't convinced. She was fat, she said, the wrong shape – and depressed.
Later, sitting in a cafe, she threw in something else: she'd felt that some of the sales assistants had assumed that she was only there to shoplift. Because she was black, she said. You wouldn't understand, she said.
An honest smile is attractive in any colour, I said.
Suddenly, right then, she looked stunning.
Later, sitting in a cafe, she threw in something else: she'd felt that some of the sales assistants had assumed that she was only there to shoplift. Because she was black, she said. You wouldn't understand, she said.
An honest smile is attractive in any colour, I said.
Suddenly, right then, she looked stunning.
