4338.206 · July 25, 2018 AD
The Package Deal
Home should mean safety. A moment to breathe. Instead, there's a package on the bed—plain, brown, heavy with implication. Inside: an invitation to something Beatrix wants no part of, and a directive she can't refuse. When she tries to decline, the message won't send. Leigh's number is dead. The choice has already been made for her. Tonight demands elegance, composure, and a dress that remembers grief better than she does.
The package sits on her bed like it belongs there. No warning. No permission. Just Leigh's handiwork, placed through a Portal she'd half-forgotten he could access.
A name she doesn't recognise. Instructions she doesn't want to follow. An invitation to a world she's spent years avoiding.
DRESS NICE.
She tries to refuse. The message spins, fails, mocks her with Undelivered. Leigh's number: cancelled. The door: closed. The choice: not hers.
Then Gladys texts. Memorial service. 11pm. Another obligation, another performance.
Beatrix opens her wardrobe. The black dress hangs where it always has—the one from Brody's funeral. Lace sleeves. Midnight fabric. Memory stitched into every seam.
She puts it on anyway.
Because tonight isn't just about delivering a package to a stranger at a gala.
Tonight is about becoming someone she doesn't quite recognise.
