Threads of Eternity
Morning comes too soon.
By 7:00 a.m., I'm dressed in black wide-leg trousers, a fitted
turtleneck, and sharp-heeled boots that make me feel like I
own the city. My hair is sleek, makeup flawless. I glance in the
mirror before stepping out the door, my reflection staring back
like a stranger.
This is what success looks like, I remind myself.
The subway ride into Manhattan is a blur of steel and bodies, of
high-energy tension and the scent of burnt coffee. I step onto
Fifth Avenue with the sun bouncing off the glass skyscrapers,
and for the first time all morning, my pulse quickens with
excitement instead of nerves.
House of Veyron looms ahead. Tall. Monolithic. The heart of
everything I've ever wanted.
I square my shoulders and push through the revolving doors.
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