He rolled his eyes and groaned in exasperation, “What is taking
so long? You're taking forever. I’ve been waiting on you for hours now.”
I’m sorry.
I’m sorry for making you wait, but allow me to explain. You see, the clothes on my back say more to you than the words on my lips. If I wear too much? I'm a prude. Too little? I'm a slut. With what I wear, I am at fault for another's inability to focus. With what I wear, I assume responsibility for another’s decision to harm me. I know it sounds bizarre. Do you not see the connection?
