More Than Just Words

atest tweets about Velvety, the fashion brand I work for. They are all negative, mocking the company's poor sales and tas

eep up with the trends and the competition. But nothing has prepared me for the backlash that follows their latest product: a graphic tee for young girls with the wo

Velvety's "future brides" tees. They're wrong and hurtful. I warned them, b

e to jump out at me. My eyes are wide and alert, and my fingers tremble slightly. Biting my lip and fidgeting with my hair, unable to

The espresso machine wafts caramel and vanilla, making my mouth water but not even that can get my mind off my worries. The his

s the street, a young couple catches my eye. The girl leans towards her boy

this," he says, sh

en closer to him. "That's h

in each other's ears, t

sts in my stomach, a cold shiver runs down my spine. I envy them for their laughter, their closeness,

thing else, anything else, but

anxious. I check it and see more tweet

hey promote such a sexist and creepy message

m Velvety for my daughter. They should be ashamed of

What were they thinking? And where is their social media manag

I should apologize and resign, but I'm afraid of what will happ

calls out, snapping

Oh no! Not again! Another Twitter user spewing hate directly at me for working with Velvety. Not many people follow me online even though Velvety has posted me several times; in fact, I could barely crack five hundred followe

ys enters, lugging camera equipment and carrying tripods. My curiosity is piqued, but I'm soon jolted back to r

the one person I had hoped to neve

stare at him

this a dream? A nightmare? Why is he here? My face heats up and my fists clench, ready to lash out at him. How dare he sho

ndsome, with his brown eyes and hair. His Bluwood co

for me. "Wow! Loretta? Ah… I-

and bouncy. He looks at me with those intense brown eyes, as if he knows everything about me. He stares down at me, with glassy eye

der if I look good enough, then shake the thought off my head. It

g when… sorry about the dress,"

ight. You're alwa

fts from the sink, calming my nerves. I turn on the faucet to wash the coffee stain off my dress and listen t

m floral gown is like a dark blotch on my day, ruining everything. I wish I had wor

nt of the whole school, flashes in my mind. We had been dating for three months, and I thought he loved me. But he didn't. He said he was bored of me, that I was too plain, to

xhales, I push them away and focus on cleaning up. I can't le

down. I type a frantic email, asking about my payment. I need the money badly. Tears stream do

p their cameras. My heart pounds in my chest. A guy pats Richard on the shoulder and laughs. It's Adam fucking Cooper, one of the guy

it me like a tidal wave. I remember his smile, his kiss, his betrayal. I remember the pa

here? What is he filming? My hands shake and

feeling about this. This encounter is only the beginning of somethin