I found myself in a section of the shop that the Kid had dubbed “the Closet.” It was exactly as it sounded—a corner full of various clothing items I’d collected over the years and had no need to keep for myself. Belts worn by a famous siren in the sixties. Some eighth century pope vestments and rosaries. A leather jacket gifted to a pianist by a muse in the eighties, though my source on that one wasn’t exactly the most reliable.
