Grandma’s closet still smelled like her. Warm, familiar. Like if I closed my eyes, she might still be there telling me not to dig through her things.
At the back, I found something I’d never seen before—a garment bag.
Inside was a soft blue dress.
Her prom dress.
I held it up, breath catching. It fit me almost perfectly.
“I’m wearing this,” I said.
Mrs. Kline appeared behind me. “Oh, that dress.”
Something about her tone felt off, but I didn’t question it. Not then.
She insisted it needed tailoring. Gave me the name of a man downtown. Said he worked with delicate pieces.
I went the next morning.
The shop smelled like fabric, old wood… and lilac.
The same scent.
“Half the town smells like that,” the tailor said when I mentioned it. “It sticks.”
He knew my name before I said it. Said Mrs. Kline had called ahead.
That should have been my first warning.
He handled the dress carefully, running his fingers along the hem. Then he paused.
“Hold on,” he said.
