170: An Eye For An Eye

SCARLETT

Mom was currently supervising the moving of mount Everest into the house, or at least a vanity mirror that matched its dimensions.

“Take it upstairs, the last room at the end of the second floor,” she directed the poor moving men that were saddled with lifting her newest addition to her vain collection of mirrors.

“You have a dressing room with seven mirrors, mom. Was this entirely necessary?” I asked, mouth agape in sheer wonder as more staff trooped on with countless shopping bags.

“None of those mirrors are from Spain, handcrafted by an artist from Van Gogh’s lineage and traced with red diamond along along the edges,” she argued, her eyes following the staff as they carried in her luggage and what seemed like an entire mall worth of shopping.

“Uh, I’m just gonna go into my room, I’ve had a long day,” I yawned and turned away from her, feigning tiredness to escape her.

I’d barely taken a step away from her when I felt her grab my wrist and surprisingly pull me into a crushi