She had planned to wear black again. Black had become her neutral setting: easy, flattering, impossible for anyone to comment on. Then she pulled a midnight-blue skirt from the back of the wardrobe and paired it with the copper top she had bought for no reason other than the fabric looked expensive against her skin.

The difference showed up before the date. In the lift down from her apartment, she stood straighter and stopped checking whether the slit was too much. It wasn't. It was just more than the version of herself who had spent fifteen years arranging family photos from the outside edge.

At brunch two days later, her friend noticed the change before hearing a word about him. “You look like you had plans before he called,” she said. That was exactly it.