Writing Pilates
Despite Miss Borka’s insistence that she would woo prince Andrej with the beauteous contents of her mind, she did not swat Bosomella aside when the undergarment fairy lugged in a jumbo sized puff of scented glitter powder and a custom designed bosom blossomer that was to die for. And now, as their carriage clattered over the cobbles toward the king’s palace, Bosomella could take full professional pride in the results. Miss Borka was stunning. Her gown was a deep scarlet with ripples of black in the correct lighting and her dark hair was piled in artful curls upon her proud head. Some strands hung loose down her back and rubies glistened in her ears. Now perhaps the explosion of glitter powder that had occurred when the whole pack of squirrels insisted on helping the small fairy dress her mistress could have been viewed as a beauty powder typhoon of the gravest magnitude, but Miss Borka pulled it off, as though they had intended her to glisten from every pore and lash. They passed a group of hooded farmers wrestling an ancient wagon up the road and for a moment Bosomella was distracted. That tall one with the brutal brow had looked familiar, had he visited the stables before, or delivered horse shoes to the smith?
