Odette Rising

When the dressmakers had gone, she wrapped her arms around herself and squeezed tightly. Their visit had been awful; they had seen her pink and blue flesh, its hairs, dents and ripples. Her poor body, made to endure such scrutiny. But if she were really to go into the world, there was a price to pay. She must offer herself for scorn in order to feed her starving mind and imagination. And if she didn’t, she would sit here for what would feel like eternity. She called for tea and eclairs.