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In the bathroom

The opening reception for the new art gallery has ended, and we are returning to our hotel. I open the door of an approaching car while you say goodbye to the organizers on the porch of the gallery. After saying goodbye, you go down the steps to me, to the car, and I don’t miss the moment to admire you. You are wearing a long shiny dress, black shoes on your feet, and a small handbag in your hands. You gracefully descend the steps and majestically settle into the provided limousine. Outside the window of the leisurely crawling Aurus, evening Moscow lazily floats by. The interior of the car is...