I’ll Take Them Anyway

Elbow length opera gloves were Maisie’s aspirational accessory. They were hard to find, but on her way to work, she saw them in the window of a secondhand shop on the corner of Main and Chestnut. She knew she had to have them. She had twenty minutes.

A bell tinkled above the door as she entered the store. The dominant smell was pachouli with a dusting of pine and a soupçon of je n’ai sais quoi. Maisie picked the gloves from the window display and slipped one over her hand, up her arm, the satin soft and pleasant. Too big.