Vivienne's POV
Four days felt like four hours.
That was the thing about the final stretch before something significant. Time changed its texture. The days didn't get shorter exactly but the hours inside them moved differently, faster and fuller, and by the time evening arrived you looked back at the morning and couldn't quite account for everything that had happened in between.
The machinery of it had its own momentum now.
That was the right word. Machinery. Not in a cold way. In the warm way of something that had been built carefully over weeks and had reached the point where it knew what it was doing and was doing it and the people inside it were both running it and being carried by it simultaneously.
....
The final fitting was Tuesday morning.
I stood on the platform in the studi
