She takes the package back to her tiny little apartment with… well, not a skip in her step, she’s trying not to get too excited.
She doesn’t want to get her hopes up.
For once, the smells of old cigarette smoke eternally seeping into the walls of the building don’t bother her. The door that shrieks like something’s dying when you open it doesn’t matter either.
She’s been saving for months, pinching every yen she can.
It’s beautiful.
The skirt flows and swishes when she walks.
She spins and it twirls so gracefully with her.
She can’t keep the grin off of her face, it’s gorgeous and somehow… somehow it doesn’t feel wrong.
She’s not… she’s not ruining it. It’s-, it isn’t a beautiful skirt with an ugly model.
She was so afraid it would be. Deep inside she was sure this would shatter the illusion and show her just what a lost cause she is.
She’s not.
She smiles fondly at the colors. They’re too bright and loud to wear out, at least, they’re too bright and loud for her to wear out.
Maybe, maybe someday she’ll be brave enough to do it.
For now, standing in front of her big mirror, walking and spinning and smiling like everything is right with the world, it’s enough.
She tries to imagine the future.
She can’t see it, she doesn’t even have a proper name picked out but… Some of her acquaintances have started calling her Magne. She owns a skirt and the person she was five years ago never could have imagined even considering that.
She’s going to keep going, and the her of five years in the future is going to look back and remember this too.
Her first skirt.
She can’t wait to see what her future holds.