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Emily’s Point of View
When we stepped out of the terminal building at Heathrow, a chilly wind caught the hem of my knee-length camel-hair coat and snapped it open, driving horizontal rain straight onto my bare legs.
I hissed softly and hugged the coat tighter.
Anya gave me her best I-told-you-so look, and I grimaced.
“I’ve been wearing pants for so long, I needed a skirt day.”
“Then wear thick tights, honey. You know the drill.”
“Oh, look.”