The box arrives early in the morning. I almost trip over it when I open my apartment door. Someone has placed it neatly on the welcome mat as if it belongs there, as if my cramped one bedroom walk up is the sort of place luxury deliveries frequent.
It is not.
The box is matte black, tied with a dark ribbon that feels like silk when I touch it. For a moment I just stand there holding it, aware of how out of place it looks against the peeling paint of my hallway. My neighbor’s television leaks through the thin walls. Someone’s dog barks upstairs. A couple is arguing down the stairwell.
None of it matches the quiet opulence of the package in my hands. I already know who sent it before I even lift the lid.
Inside lies a gown. Not just a dress. A gown. The kind meant for charity galas and r
