Blue Cotton Work Shirts Stitched Together for a Spring Dance
He had spent his last strength sweeping the basement tiles so I could have a room with a desk and a window five miles away. Every hour of heavy breathing in the cold hallways had been a trade for my future.
I sat down on the grass, tucking my skirt around my ankles to keep the wind from catching the hem. The town below was quiet, the distant sound of a truck horn the only noise from the highway.
The green and blue fabric of my dress would face the crowd in the gymnasium in just a few days. The whispers of the other students did not seem to reach this high up the hill.
Nicole presses the college receipt against her chest, her thumb tracing the blue ink of the paid-in-full stamp.
The paper was still warm from being tucked inside my coat when I walked into Clara’s shop at four o’clock.
The air inside smelled of wet wool and plaster dust.
Clara stood near the rear rack with her hands pressed against her cheeks, her face gray under the flickering fluorescent bulb.
