The bag is well-worn. Sturdy and simple. Small and relatively-affordable. Too well-worn to carry around anymore, but I couldn’t let it go.
The lining is a surprise of perfect bold contrast I’d forgotten: vivid blue. Now I remember how the sturdy zipper snagged at my skin and make penetrating that blue mouth feel hazardous and scrape-y.
It is not meant to be sexy; it is SHARP. I defer to its better, bolder judgement. Practical like a laser. I would hire this person to be an executive assistant, worrying every day about losing her to something more challenging and rewarding where she is The Boss running a tight ship with nothing wasted on pointless extras and no time for bullshit. Knowing exactly the best attention-grabbing way to highlight and color the arrows pointing to the future in the most energetic direction.
What is in this bag when I outfit it with my fantasies?