Mai Mingle forced her legs, which felt as if they'd been deboned, to carry her into the restroom. Each step was a struggle. She presented her forehead to the makeup woman. When she reemerged, she met the wife's gaze and walked over to their table.
"I never would have guessed you were so bold. So? Do you believe me now?"
The wife said with a smile, "The rule is that you can't touch a diner's face. If you only touch something a guest is wearing on their face, that doesn't count as touching their face. It's not a violation. If you don't believe me, go try again. Take off its glasses."
'How could I possibly try again? I can barely stand as it is.'
In her peripheral vision, the faces of the three female guests were still fixed on her. Although they hadn't made a sound, Mai Mingle could feel their dark, roiling displeasure.
