It wasn't a bigshop, but she loved it. This had always been her dream. The shop feltrich and warm, with large baroque pattered wallpaper, french roc...cofurniture and the subtle smell of vanilla mingling with Lucy's own headyperfume. The register sat on a curved french desk, alone except for ameasuring tape, a laptop and a fashion magazine. Behind the desk, alarge black and gold door was locked. Two changing rooms lay at theback, next to the oversized coffee machine. Their heavy curtains. That didn’t really placate him, but he did stop shouting, and I suppose that was enough for me. I’ve always hated upsetting people. So I called the clinic. The woman who answered gave me the necessary information and instructions, and I dutifully wrote everything down so I wouldn’t make any mistakes. Bathrobe and socks or slippers, check. Nail polish removed from fingers and toes, check. Maxipads, check. A bag to keep my things in, check. $500 cash, check? Oh, shit. I didn’t have $500. I knew. More

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