Mirabella had considerable wealth, but little use for it. There was one extravagance however: her nails. Once a week, every week.
Salon employees fawned over her too, knowing substantial tips would follow. Sadly, Mirabella knew little about these women. Their situation seemed dire, but what to do?
One afternoon, a woman pressed a bottle of polish into her palm. No doubt a gift for a loyal customer.
Later she found a scrap of paper tucked inside. Written in broken English, but the message was clear.
Mirabella gazed at the note, the cry for help.
How could she be silent now?
The Weekday One Hundred 