They’d always liked Imogen’s displays in women’s fashion. They’d especially liked her tasteful Black Friday arrangement of plus-sized women’s clothing. So she was shocked when her boss, Marcy, told her they were eliminating the visual display artist position. She’d been upset, of course, but, being a professional, she’d committed to creating one final display. Imogen stood back now, admiring the family of mannequins gathered around a Christmas tree. She noticed the mother’s arm was at an awkward angle. She stepped into the display, grasped Marcy’s cold, stiff arm, and twisted it until she heard a crack.
“That’s better,” she said.
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alt="Heartwood by R.J. Cannon"
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sizes="(min-width: 1200px) 550px, (min-width: 750px) calc((100vw - 130px) / 2), calc((100vw - 50px) / 2)"
alt="Denied by J.B. Corso"
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alt="Cold Recognition by Andreas Flögel"
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sizes="(min-width: 1200px) 550px, (min-width: 750px) calc((100vw - 130px) / 2), calc((100vw - 50px) / 2)"
alt="Winter Feast by Pauline Yates"
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>