Cathy enjoyed a good shopping expedition every now and then. The key was to leave space between them and to resign herself to spending a designated amount of cash ahead of time--otherwise, she caught herself staring stubbornly at items she desperately wanted but was too stingy to buy, or otherwise blowing a fraction of her paycheck impulsively, never to touch those shoes, or that blouse, again.
This time, the item in question was a dress. A deep purple dress, to be precise. It was a color she rarely wore, but the root of her hesitance came with the cut. Deciding that she needed the expertise of the multi-way mirror, she slipped back into her sandals and out of the dressing room. A familiar face greeted her, and the smile that appeared was genuine.
"Cute outfit," she stated with immediate approval. "I like the wash of the jeans. It's a nice shade of blue."
She was one of the Slayers, someone Cathy knew from the boards but had only met fleetingly in the real world. What was her name?
"It's Vi, isn't it?" she asked at last, almost sheepish and certain she had gotten it wrong. "I'm sorry, I'm having a blonde moment."
She hated the stereotype with a passion, but even she had to admit--it gave her a decent cop-out here and there.