Remember the H is for Head and Hair mannequin? When I didn't see her any longer as I rode by on the No. 18 bus, I figured she'd left for another display window somewhere; that's what I told y'all in the post.
One day last week as we rode by the store windows, I caught a glimpse of several other mannequins--the kind from the waist up--sitting on the floor in what looked like dressing rooms without their doors. Naturally, I got off the bus to investigate and found a surprise.
There she was, our H girl, in pieces in a dressing room, all by herself.
To the left of her face, you can see her hands with their bright red nails--I guess her arms are tucked out of sight at the ends of her hands--and beside the back of her head, you can see her bare feet at the bottom of her long, blue-jean clad legs. All. To. Pieces. Drat.
P.S. I'm posting mighty early, changing the post time and date a whole lot, because I had an emergency trip to the dentist today--not my usual perky self, but on the mend. I'll be back better than ever which is my hope for the golden-haired mannequin.
