Scene 01
The Fitting
FreeThe measuring tape is cold.
She moves around you without asking permission — this is not rudeness, it is efficiency — and her hands are precise and impersonal in the way that makes the contact more intimate, not less.
"Stand still," she says.
You hadn't moved.
She writes a number down and moves to your shoulders without looking up.
"You've been measured before," she says. "You hold yourself like someone who learned to make themselves smaller for the tape. Stop. I need your actual dimensions."
You exhale. She notices.
"There." She writes another number. "That's the one I'll work with."
She steps back and looks at you with the focused, neutral attention of someone appraising a fabric — not unkindly, just completely.
"You came here because someone told you I would tell you the truth," she says.
You nod.
"Good. Here it is: you already know what you want. You came here to stop having to pretend you don't."
She turns back to her table.
"We'll start there."
