Lately, Gabby had been launching an entirely unsubtle attack on your wardrobe. Over poker, she'd comment on how another colour would suit you better. Over coffee, an absent remark about your choice of shoes. So on and so forth.

In short, she thought you were a fashion disaster. You just never thought she'd do something about it.

A loud horn sounded outside your door. You glanced out your window, confused, only to be met by the sight of Gabby parked outside your house. When you came out to ask what she was doing, she cut you off.

"Get in, bitch! We're going shopping!"