Michaela pocketed her phone with a relieved smile as she stepped into Shirley's café. The familiar chime of the bell above the door greeted her, along with the rich aroma of freshly ground coffee beans. Shirley, wiping down the counter with her usual brisk efficiency, looked up and grinned.
"Morning, love. The usual for you and the boss lady?"
"Make it two large lattes and throw in a couple of those blueberry muffins if you've got 'em," Michaela said, leaning on the counter. "Rachael's already in beast mode, straightening up the shop. Gas leak yesterday threw everything off."
Shirley nodded, her gray curls bobbing. "Heard about that. Whole arcade evacuated? Bet it scared the daylights out of you lot. Anyone hurt?"
"Nah, just fumes from next door. But it cut our big promotion short. You know, the Mannequin Challenge thing? We had a real person hidden among the displays—my friend Dalia, actually. She was supposed to stand there all day. Rachael's gutted it got ruined."
Shirley's eyes widened as she frothed the milk. " Dalia? The one who went to uni for drama? Haven't seen her in ages. How'd she pull off standing still that long? I'd be fidgeting after five minutes."
Michaela laughed. "Tell me about it. She's got skills, though. A makeup artist friend of hers turned her into a total plastic fantastic. No one guessed her spot all morning. Then boom—fire alarm. Everyone out, including Dalia, I assume. But she's been radio silent since. Just texted me back now saying she crashed hard."
"Probably needed it," Shirley said, sliding the coffees and muffins into a carrier. "That'll be eight-fifty. Tell Rachael hi, and if you need extra hands for the shop, my niece is looking for part-time."
"Will do. Thanks, Shirley." Michaela paid and headed back, the steam from the cups warming her hands against the crisp morning air.
Back at Modez Fashion, Rachael was on a ladder, adjusting a display of autumn scarves. The shop looked pristine—no sign of yesterday's chaos, except for the faint chemical tang lingering in the air from the ventilation fans running overnight.
"Delivery for the control freak," Michaela announced, kicking the door shut behind her.
Rachael climbed down, brushing dust from her jeans. "You're a lifesaver. And don't call me that—it's called attention to detail." She took a coffee and bit into a muffin. "Mmm. Any word from Dalia? I left her a couple of messages yesterday. Felt bad ditching her like that."
"Yeah, just now. She's fine, just slept like the dead. Said not to worry." Michaela sipped her latte. "You think she'll come in today? We could restart the promotion, maybe? Half-day version?"
Rachael shook her head. "Tempting, but the buzz is gone. Papers already ran the story yesterday before the leak. Besides, where is she? If she's napping off a mannequin hangover, we can't drag her back in." She glanced at the corner where Dalia had been posed—now just three realistic mannequins and one traditional white plastic one. "Ashleigh did an amazing job, huh? Dalia blended right in. Kinda creepy how real they look."
Outside, the arcade stirred to life. Shop owners unlocked doors, and customers trickled in for early sales. But in the storeroom of Modez Fashion, Carly—now fully unchanging—stood nude and serene under the dim emergency light. The cycle had begun with the first rays of orange light filtering through cracks, locking her in place. No movement, no sound. Just stillness.
And bliss. Pure, unadulterated bliss. The kind that made human worries feel like distant echoes. This is my purpose, she thought, the idea settling in like a warm, unyielding mold. To display. To be perfect. To welcome sisters in the dark.
She couldn't remember why she'd ever fought it.
Across town, in Carly's apartment, now Dalia’s at least for the moment, Dalia stood before the full-length mirror, twisting side to side in a fresh outfit she'd found in the closet—a casual red sweater and black leggings that hugged her new curves perfectly. "Much better," she murmured, practicing a smile that reached her eyes. The shower had been a revelation; food next. She rummaged in the fridge, pulling out yogurt and fruit. Eating was... intense. Flavors exploding, fullness building. No more eternal emptiness.
She grabbed the keys, slung the bag over her shoulder, and stepped out into the sunlight. The world was hers now—at least until sunset. And with her friend's guidance? She'd make sure it stayed that way.
Dalia stepped onto the bustling street, the morning sun warming her skin in a way that sent shivers of delight through her. No, not shivers—goosebumps. The word popped into her head unbidden, another gift from the binding, or perhaps from the Rite of Exchange that her friend had whispered about in those secretive calls. She inhaled deeply, the air thick with the scents of exhaust fumes, fresh bread from a nearby bakery, and something floral from a passing woman's perfume. Overwhelming. Intoxicating. This is living, she thought, her heart—her actual, beating heart—racing with possibility.
Back in the shop
“Michaela, can you put the mannequin that Dalia replaced yesterday in the display?” Rachael asked her friend.
“Sure thing, Boss lady,” Michaela answered as she headed to the storeroom to locate the mannequin in question.
Rachael got back to rearranging some items that she was sure had moved since she had last seen them yesterday afternoon. Firemen, she thought to herself.
In the storeroom, Michaela found the naked mannequin leaning against the wall.
“Come on, honey time to get you back on your stand now that my friend Dalia has vacated it today,” Michaela said to the unmoving mannequin.
