I spot my purse wrapped in Brown Calfskin leather--mass duplicates inhabit fashionistas' arms worldwide, celebrating my vision and Artistry.
Proud, I descend on the elevator, pretending the TING of the bell for each floor signals another happy carrier of my life's work.
A model-shaped woman inside with me wears the purse cross-body. The sliding bronze brass chain complements her minimalistic style.
She notices me staring. An awkward moment pursues. My heart aches when her hand clutches the purse with protection. The item is now flawed. Good thing I have duplicates!
1 thought on “Purse-O-nality”