The girl stood in front of the glass display

The girl stood in front of the glass display, staring at the white sequined gown like it was a dream locked behind light.
Her brown t-shirt was plain. Her sneakers were s

cuffed. Her hands stayed folded in front of her as shoppers moved around the luxury boutique without noticing her.

Then a woman in a gold sequined suit stopped beside her.
She looked at the girl, then at the dress, and laughed.
“You?” she said, leaning close. “In that dress? Look in the mirror. Remember who you are.”
The girl’s face went still.

The woman smiled wider, enjoying the silence.
“Some people are born to wear gowns,” she whispered. “Some are born to watch.”
The girl’s eyes lowered for one second.
Then she looked back up.
Not ashamed.
Not broken.
Tired.

“You don’t know who I am,” she said.
The woman scoffed. “I know enough.”
She reached out and tapped the girl’s shoulder like she was brushing away dust.
That was when the girl pushed her.

The woman fell hard onto the marble floor, her silver purse skidding beneath the display lights.
Shoppers gasped.

The woman looked up, humiliated and furious.
Before she could scream, a male employee in a black suit walked forward carrying a folded white gown covered in heavy beading.

He bowed slightly.
“Miss,” he said gently, “your VIP dress is ready.”
The woman on the floor froze.
The girl took the dress, then looked down at her.
“I already knew who I was.”