I tuck it back into the book and place it on the bed before crouching and pulling out the box beneath. Opening the lid, I find a stack of sketchbooks and pencils along with aged watercolor paints and pens. I flip through the first book, seeing the countless dresses she’s designed, some bright and pretty, others dark, short, the sketched models wearing them drawn with ease and perfection. I flip open the next one, finding lingerie and nightwear and the one after that is shoes. The girl was an artist and an aspiring designer if these were anything to go by.
