Rosaleigh, NY

Jessica. I think that's her name. Why is she standing at my door?

I blink, my breathe held in. I was barely moving, and she was there smiling and rambling and being happy. No. Stop being happy, turn around and leave.

"Hi," she starts. She sounds happy. Stop sounding happy. "You're Jordan, right? The designer?"

I stiffly nod. "Y-yeah. Why?"

She laughs sweetly. "Well, I was wondering if you could make me a dress? I'll pay, of course."

I look her up and down discreetly. She is the polar opposite of the types of customers I get. "Why?" I ask.

"Well," she starts, hesitantly. "You know how all of you came back? Well, I haven't seen Levi is ages, not since... well, you know. And I thought it'd be nice to have a new dress when I see him."

She smiles at me, her eyes shining. Urgh.

"Well," I start, "what about your boyfriend? Wouldn't he mind if you get a dress especially made for a guy other than himself?"

"Oh, it's not like that," she laughs. "So, can you do it?"

I sigh, and nod. "It's going to take all of today," I say.

"Oh, thank you," she says, hugging me. "I'll pay you tomorrow. Here's my measurements and such."

She reaches into her bag and hands me a piece of paper, covered in scrappy handwriting. How does she expect me to read this? With one last wave, she turns around to leave, and I internally dance with glee.

She's gone.