“I think we’re doing the ordering tonight,” the waiter smiled. Not at me. At the dress.
So yes: I frivolous dress order the meal. -I frivolous dress order the meal-
By A. E. Stedman
The man across from me closed his menu. He looked at the dress. He looked at me inside the dress. And then he did something remarkable: he laughed. “Apparently, we are.” “I think we’re doing the ordering tonight,” the
That night, we ate like gods. The dress ordered the duck fat potatoes. The dress demanded the chocolate soufflé at 10:47 PM, long after dessert was “closed.” The dress paid—well, I paid, but the dress took the credit, waving a black card like a tiny surrender flag. So yes: I frivolous dress order the meal
“I frivolous dress order the meal—” is not a broken sentence. It is a confession.