“Good morning. Miss DiFrenza.” Angelica smiled and murmured “good morning” in response to the cheerful choruses of greeting. It was a routine she went through each morning as she arrived at work and made her way to her office. The store her great-grandmother, Elena, had founded was in her blood, and she loved everything about it, always had, ever since she was a little girl and Elena had brought her to work with her. The symmetry and order reflected in the layout of display cases and clothes racks pleased her, the smells and textures of the different types of merchandise made her happy. But today a disturbance rippled beneath the pleasant familiarity of her routine. She had dreamt in the night. When she had awakened, she had been left with only vaguely disquieting wisps of the dream. Why was it bothering her, she wondered. And why was she giving more than a moment’s thought to the antics of her mind while she slept? Dreams never made sense anyway.
