Her own reflection stared back, a dozen versions of her from every angle. She saw the slight tremor in her hand as she traced the scalloped edge of the chemise. This was the part no one else saw. The ten o’clock appointment was just a name on a ledger— Leanne, 24, 10/14 —but for her, it was a ritual.
Leanne looked at the clock. 10:14 AM. She smiled, a small, secret thing.
The number 14 wasn't the size. It was the date. October 14th. The day she had walked into this very store a year ago, a ghost in a grey trench coat, feeling nothing. Today, she was reclaiming the date.
