Chapter 2 - Daylight and Display Cases
Morning brought a pale, watery sun that did little to dry the puddles lingering in the curbside gutters. By ten o'clock, I found myself walking back down the same avenue, ostensibly to pick up supplies from the stationery shop two doors down from the boutique. My coat was buttoned tight, my scarf wound twice around my neck, but my steps slowed naturally as I approached the storefront where the blue gown had rested the night before. I told myself I was only curious if the dress was still there, if the entire encounter hadn't been some strange projection born of exhaustion and too many late nights at the architectural firm where I drafted floor plans nobody ever looked at twice.
The window display had changed. The sparkling dark blue sleeveless gown was gone, replaced by a severe emerald silk dress that looked cold and uninviting under the morning LEDs. A mild disappointment settled in my stomach before I could stop it. I paused by the glass, peering inside to see if the store employee from the previous evening was working. The interior looked different in daylight; the polished hardwood floors gleamed, and a crystal chandelier caught the morning rays filtering through the high front windows.
"Can I help you find something specific today?" a voice asked.
I turned slightly to find the same store employee standing just inside the doorway, holding a polished brass sign frame. Her dark hair was tied back in the same neat twist, and her white collared shirt and black blazer looked as immaculate as they had the night before.
"I was actually just looking at the window," I said, my voice sounding a bit thinner than I intended. "The blue dress that was on the mannequin yesterday evening. Is it already sold?"
A faint smile touched the corner of her mouth, though her eyes remained professional and measured. "It was moved to our private viewing salon in the back. It tends to attract a very specific kind of attention. Are you interested in trying it on?"
"No," I replied quickly, shaking my head with a small, self-conscious laugh. "I was just admiring the beadwork. It caught the street lamps yesterday."
May you like
"It certainly did," she said, stepping fully onto the threshold. "My name is Maya, by the way. You stood out there quite a while last night. Mr. Vance noticed."
The mention of the man's name—Vance—sent a small jolt through my routine morning. I hadn't known his name, had only known the black suit and the dark hair. Before I could formulate a casual reply that wouldn't betray my sudden interest, the shop's inner glass door swung open with a soft, pneumatic hiss, and the sound of footsteps echoed across the hardwood floor behind Maya.
