Paloma Perez.
I stand with my arms folded across my chest, staring out at the large, echoing empty floor. To the left, through another set of transparent panes, I can see Eva’s floor—just as empty, just as full of potential.
The afternoon light filters through the floor-to-ceiling windows, painting golden rectangles across the marble. I’ve already explored the boutique. The reception area is positioned just right under the pendant lights by the front. My mind races with visions of display racks, a signboard, some stands, maybe some potted plants in the corners...
Also, I have an office! My own private office, just for me!
Now, my hands are loosely beneath my chest as I try to picture the future when Eva returns from her floor. She crosses the marble tiles and the spark in her eyes a
