Ann raked through the dresses on sale. A blue dress with a chain link pattern. A
Pucci. Pucci’s back.
Most of the good stuff was gone. She remembered when this shop was a wood hut where the islanders—the real islanders—bought cheap beer, cigarettes and salami. Now Pine Avenue was turquoise and pink, with a designer donut shop and shop after shop of this stuff. Her hand dropped down the polyester sleeve of a yellow and pink top with swirls from neck to hem. My sister could carry this one off. I couldn’t. …
~Toasted Cheese Literary Journal, June, 2015