Chapter 86

• The boutique was quiet that evening. The kind of quiet that does not just settle around a space, but sinks into it. The lights had been dimmed. The street outside was beginning to shift from the chaos of the afternoon to the hush of evening. Cars passed in waves, but none lingered. The foot traffic had thinned. Inside, the last of the interns had left nearly an hour ago, and Helena had taken her laptop and disappeared into the back, giving me space without having to ask if I needed it.
• I stood alone in the middle of the floor, barefoot, the fabric of the prototype slipping gently along the sides of my hips. It was still unfinished. There were pins in the hem. The neckline had not been properly stitched. A thread hung loose near the seam of the left sleeve. But I had wanted to feel it. Not just see it on a form or on a hanger, but feel the way it rested on my skin.
• The mirror wall stretched across the west side of the boutique. In daylight, it reflected the sky outside, filling the room with a kind of light that always made the fabric glow. But now, with the sun nearly gone, the reflection was less forgiving. There was no illusion, no softened light to smooth the edges. Just me. And the dress. And the quiet.