Susan stopped looking through a rack of silk scarves and turned around.

“Well?” Susan asked.

I looked into the tall mirror on the shop wall.

The blue dress fit without a single wrinkle, framing my neck and arms with quiet, simple grace.

For the first time in six years, I looked at my reflection and didn’t hear Max’s voice telling me what was wrong.

“It fits,” I said quietly.

“It does more than fit,” Susan said.

“It looks like you.”