Lana answered the door in a long black velvet coat that fit perfectly around her still small waist. There was an ivory brooch of pink roses on a black beaded choker, and her blonde and silver hair was coifed for a night out, kinked and curled. She smelled of expensive perfume. Chloe, on the other hand, wore an oversized gray sweatshirt with a bleach stain on the shoulder and rolled-up sleeves. She had on comfortable jeans and an old pair of sneakers. Her hair was tied back in a ponytail to keep it from whipping at her face. She blushed at her carelessness, but Lana didn’t seem to notice. Chloe was happy with her choice of apparel, however, once Lana had led her up the old stairs to the widow’s walk. A small and unheated glass-enclosed cupola prepared Chloe to step once more into the wind. As they stepped out, the wind still bit, but the thick sweatshirt helped defend her. Lana’s face took a daily beating from the wind. Chloe could see it clearly now. Her face was dry and bruised pink.
