Gloria had fallen in love with the belts. There were round buckles, tan leathers, gunmetal, woven, wraps. She slipped an artichoke braided belt around her waist with Alice standing beside her taking notice at the awestruck customers ogling at Steinem inside the thrift clothing store.
“I like this one,” Gloria said, running her fingers along the band. She unbuckled and pulled it off to try on a different belt. A macadamia Italian leather she also wanted.
“You look great wearing all of them,” Alice smiled, turning her back at the young ladies staring across near the hats and headscarves.
“Take me away before it’s too late,” Gloria warned, never taking her eyes off a red and black reversible that was calling her name.
Alice had managed to pull Gloria out of the store without a single belt. She was steering her along the sidewalk, their arms hooked together. They didn’t stop until they made it to Macray’s car located alongside the parking meter.