lked in, the two machines waiting like old relatives. She made instant coffee, not because she liked it but because the smell

ot quit. "You look like you're about to meet a

ena said. The word sou

ns. "They'll see your work. That's all. You

did not try to be clever. They fit a body the way a promise fits a hand. Elena folded the fabric and pressed it with h

sed the window with to-go cups. She looked away. The studio was in a building with a glass door and a man who

le with a row of chairs. A rack of clothes hung against the far wall-clean, quiet, perfect. The lights w

evaluator. "We'll test your technique and your fit. Then a private rev

abric looked obedient. The evaluator set a model in front of her. The model was small and still and smelled faintly of citrus. The fabric they gave h

e to wait. "You got this," she said. The door closed. T

then bolder as she moved. She pinned the fabric on the model, sewed by hand where the machine would have been, and then us

lled a pause. "Mr. Cole would lik

he had been told private. She smoothed her hands over the pinned

utral light, he looked made. His eyes moved across the work and then landed on her like someone surprised by c

oice was a thing that fit ro

and it was heavy on h

s, the cut, the way the cloth lay. Then he reached out and touched the fabric where her fingers had been. T

and," he said. "Your

h hitched

thed. "Family records," he said, with a correctness that

Her heart felt like someone had turned a dial. "My

hen, not at the cloth. "Margaret Carter was known

e whispering at the market. The way her mother had stopped

p and studied it. He traced a line with his finger and then tapped it. "This line here,"

de her want to be honest and lie at once. She

nt credit?

lood of things that were not names-anger, hunger,

at is what we

he learned to press seam. He asked about the two machines and the name on the shop. Zara watched fro

way a man smooths paper before signing. "We will present an offer if the studio likes the fina

to tell him how the name had been sprayed across whispers. She wanted to spit the truth in his face

was light, almost accidental. The skin at her wrist woke up from tiredness. He did not lo

e, tall and pale, perfect hair, eyes like glass. She smiled with teeth and did no

nd women used to do when there was a war between houses. Victori

er voice made the air colde

e patrol of his chest changed. He turne

red, not sure if she wa

inked and for a second Elena saw a memory that was not hers: a woman

that had stopped a laugh. "?" she started, then closed her

. "He knows the name," she said. Her voice trembled and sh

l of muslin like it mi

mirror in it promising a thousand sma

Private offer pending. Meet Mr. Cole at his office. Tonight.

no. She could walk away and keep the shop and the two machines and the small life she kn

s, at the scar on her thumb. The city hummed

"Tonight," she