Paula stood in front of the mirror, aghast. “My makeup is ruined!”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s all over the place. I can’t believe my sister puts up with this!”
“She doesn’t,” I softly responded.
“I don’t blame her,” she said, clearly agitated as she hastily pulled three tissues from the box and began to address her lipstick.
“Charlotte hates it. I stopped asking.”
“Well, don’t ask me again.”
“I said I was sorry.”
Paula dried her eyes. “It’s just too much. More than I bargained for.”
“I won’t ask again.”
“For Christ’s sake! It’s in my hair too!”
