Juliette:
The soft hum of my suitcase wheels sliding across the wooden floor echoed in the quiet of my new apartment. I paused in front of the white-painted dresser, fingers brushing over its surface. It was secondhand, a little scratched on the side, but I’d picked it out myself. It felt like a small victory.
I sat cross-legged on the floor, opened the suitcase, and started to unpack. Each piece of clothing I folded and placed into the drawers felt like I was unpacking not just my belongings—but a new version of myself.
The sundress from closing night. The black bodysuit I wore when the scout told me, “You’ve got something.” The soft oversized sweatshirt from the night I cried, overwhelmed, and Anna let me sleep on her couch with no questions asked.
My hand paused over a silk top I’d
