“Your family is planning a dinner, isn’t he?” she asked, adjusting a hanger near me. “I think it is time you did something just for yourself.”
The words felt heavy in the quiet room. I looked at the tag hanging from the sleeve: one hundred and forty dollars.
“The dressing room is right through there,” she said, gently taking the hanger off the rod and pressing the silk into my hands.
Inside the small curtained booth, the mirror was framed in warm yellow bulbs. I took off my denim jacket, unbuttoned my plain cotton shirt, and let the green dress slide over my head.
The silk was cool against my skin, fitting close around my waist before falling in soft folds to my knees. For a second, I did not recognize the woman in the glass; she looked taller, her shoulders straighter than they had been in years.
I smoothed my hands down my thighs, feeling the weight of the fabric.
