VINTAGE

Flash Fiction

          The interior was dusty, dim and my eyes blinked to refocus, before beginning my hunt. My fingers flew through racks of hangers, instantaneously judging texture, colour, style and size. Ah. My undulating steps took me further into the shop, away from the light to a cubby hole hidden behind a dulled, mauve velvet drapery. I stepped into the blue silk, pulling the scooped bodice up over my breasts, then awkwardly zipped up. The raw silk was sleek on my hips, my waist and cap sleeves accented with petite bows. I felt personified by Audrey Hepburn. Perfection cost merely five dollars. {size: 4}