Confident as Kaija had sounded when she sprinted out of the dressing room, one nagging concern refused to leave her alone.
She had never even tried the dress on.
By the time she reached her flat, her pulse was still racing. The black paper bag sat exactly where she'd left it two weeks ago on the dining table. Beside it stood the giant bouquet of roses, no longer vibrant and alive. The once-crimson petals had darkened into brittle shades of red-brown, a few scattered across the polished mahogany like remnants of a forgotten memory.
For some reason, the sight made her pause.
Two weeks ago, the flowers and dress had seemed strange, almost suspicious. Now they felt strangely timely, as though someone had reached through the chaos and left behind a lifeline.
Kaija quickly shook the thought away and pulled the dress from the bag.
