Solis

I was at the grocery today, picking up a few things to help finish off dinner with friends tonight. (My 14-year-old is cooking. Breaths everywhere are bated.) My cashier was a woman in her 30s, of average build, dark burgundy hair and effusive manner. She was wearing two things that stood out: a man's shirt (old, soft, oxford) and a collar. A Turian-style collar: a finely woven brown leather cord formed into a choker. It rode just above her collarbone, close upon her throat. From the front descending ...