Millie spills her pearls
Millie’s long pearls draped around her neck like the curtains in her home decorated the windows. The pearls, like the curtains, were of exquisite taste. Shiny, white, perfectly round, each one hand selected. And she never went anywhere without them. It was her signature touch: “every girl’s gotta have one” she would tell her girlfriends—ladies from all ages that flocked her wherever she went. They, too, like the pearls, were strung about her neck quite almost any time of day.
She had her parlour friends, her tea time friends, her beauty salon friends, her department store friends (something new and exciting that had just come in to town), her lunch time friends, her vacation friends, theatre friends, her dinner friends, her cocktail friends, her husband’s work friends —who let’s just say weren’t her real friends by any means—and most importantly, her nighttime friends.
You see, Millie, was a prized jewel. A jewel that people sought after. Even if they didn’t own her, and no one really did, they were just pleased to have her company, to be near a jewel so breathtaking, you could just sit and look at it for hours and never become bored. Anyway she turned, the light seemed to reflect off her in a new way, but in a perfect way. She dazzled men on the streets, upsetting their wives or girlfriends or mistresses as her looks—nothing trashy you see, just something astonishingly beautiful—would captivate their eyes and slowly reel them in closer and closer, usually ending their conversation with their significant other in mid-word when they caught sight of Millie.
And even though Millie was adored by almost all she met, she—like all jewels—was not perfect. There was one tiny little scratch in the surface of her being. Nothing big enough for someone to spot right away, because she hid it well too. Making sure never to show that part of herself to anyone except those she truly truly trusted with all her heart. You see, Millie, was a call...