The doorbell chimed with a rhythmic, slightly off-beat persistence. When Martha opened it, she was met with a chorus of giggles and the unmistakable, sweet-tart scent of cheap margaritas.
"Same time next Tuesday?" Elena murmured from the rug, her eyes half-closed. drunken mature women
As the night wound down and the laughter softened into a warm, sleepy glow, Martha looked at her friends. Their makeup was a little smudged, their hair a bit wild, but they looked more beautiful to her than they ever had at twenty. They were seasoned, spirited, and perfectly, unashamedly themselves. The doorbell chimed with a rhythmic, slightly off-beat