Chapter 5

We go into too many stores, each one more extravagant than the last. It's exhausting. Mary finds at least five outfits, but she can only afford one. She settles on a mid-length dress, the color of the clearest sky, shimmering like a thousand tiny stars. And, of course, with the biggest cleavage I've ever seen.

With her long blonde hair, endless legs, and light blue eyes, she'll be breathtaking.

She also makes me try on about four thousand outfits, but nothing excites me. I don't even know what I want—a dress, jeans, a skirt, shorts? And honestly, I don't have much money to spare. I already own clothes. What's wrong with them?

Mary always complains that my wardrobe is boring. I think it's practical. Mostly gray or black—easy to move in, comfortable. I have one evening dress I wear to every gathering. Nothing wrong with that.

But at the end of Main Street, we stumble upon a small new boutique. It's cozy, different. I'm pleased to see they sell knives. Clothes and knives in the same store? Unexpected. But I'm not complaining.

So shiny.

I want them all.

I'm running my fingers along the blades when I see it.

The dress.

It's the most beautiful dress I've ever laid eyes on. Midnight blue, with small silver rings on the straps. The neckline is a little too deep for my liking, and there are openings on the sides. It's snug yet drapes and flows from the hips down.

When the store clerk hands me my size, I notice tiny moon patterns printed into the fabric.

I try it on immediately.

It feels like butter against my skin.

"OH MY GODDESS! You NEED to buy it. You look gorgeous!"

"Thanks, Mary, but it's expensive. I'm not sure I should…"

"Oh, come on! You never indulge. I know you have savings! Buy it!"

I bite my lip, looking at my reflection. She's right—I have some money put aside. Enough for the dress, but after that, I'd have to be careful.

Screw it.

I never do anything for myself. And I'm excited for Saturday.

For once in my life, I want to feel beautiful. I want to be careless.

I change back quickly before I can overthink it, march to the register, and pay in cash. The girl hands me the bag with a bright smile.

"That was an amazing choice! I saw you in it earlier—you looked like the Moon Goddess herself!"

"RIGHT?! She was stunning!" Mary exclaims, nudging me with her hip.

"Jeez, thank you! I don't even know what to say." I laugh awkwardly, my face burning.

"No problem! Do you want to check out some shoes while you're here? I have a pair that would match perfectly!"

She starts walking around the counter, but I raise my hands, stopping her.

"Oh, uh… no, it's okay! I won't be wearing shoes."

And that's when I realize—she's human.

She couldn't possibly understand why I wouldn't wear shoes to the gathering. She doesn't know that it's about connection—to nature, to the earth, to the Moon Goddess.

Our worlds are so different, yet we live in the same city, eat the same food, shop in the same stores. It's surreal, really, how we coexist now. How the past is exactly that—the past.

With an awkward smile, Mary and I step out of the shop.

The moment we hit the sidewalk, she bursts out laughing, shoving me dramatically.

"You should've seen your face!!!"

I shove her back, mimicking her horrified expression with exaggerated horror.

I have zero social skills.

Sometimes, I wonder how I even ended up friends with Mary. You'd think after fifty years, I'd have picked up a single social cue. But no. I'm awkward, I never know what to say, and when I do say something, I usually scare people away.

Sometimes, I wonder if my problem is loneliness—or if I'm just… different.

After wandering for a while, we head back to my place for food.

The guy from this morning is gone. I hope he's okay.

Mary prefers my apartment over hers. Says it's cozier.

I put a lot of effort into making it feel like home.

A light gray, oversized couch—soft, deep, perfect for curling up. String lights crisscross the ceiling, casting a warm glow. A thick, plush rug grounds the space.

I painted every room myself. My bedroom is a soft yellow, like sunlight at its brightest. My white duvet cover is a dangerous choice, but I love it. Shelves line the walls, crammed with books. Some of my favorite drawings hang between them, little pieces of me scattered everywhere.

The kitchen isn't anything special—it needs updating, but that's out of my hands. I still painted it light blue and added tiny flower decals to the cabinets.

Mary flops onto the couch with a sigh.

"I think I might need to move back in with you, Alee. I feel lonelier every day…"

Her voice is small.

She hesitates before adding, "Can I stay the night at least? Just for today?"

I blink.

I love Mary. I really do. And I loved living with her before. But I also love my space. My solitude. My silence.

Still, I'd do anything for her.

"Of course, Mary. You can stay as long as you need."

Her lips wobble.

Then, she breaks.

Tears spill down her cheeks as she nods, a small, grateful smile trembling on her lips.

I should have noticed sooner. I should have paid attention.

I should have been a better friend.

She sniffles, rubbing her face.

"Thank you, Alee. I really needed this."