“Oh,” I said, sort of shocked that my boss had passed around my application materials but also sort of flattered to hear that a coworker had liked what I’d done. The costumes I’d submitted were old Halloween costumes I’d made for myself, Touch, and Ros, but to be honest, I remembered very little about my personal statement. I’d written it in a dissociative fugue the same day I’d drawn up the contract and hit Send without bothering to read it over.

“So many typos, though. Do you proofread?”

“Sorry—are you—”

“I’m Phoebe Zhao. I’m a third-year intern. Nice to meet you,” she said. She stood from her sewing machine to shake my hand and went on to tell me she was a Lovesick Falls local. She was fat (her language, which she encouraged others to use), and I immediately coveted her cardigan, a cozy hot-pink checkerboard blanket-y situation that must have felt perfect in the freezing air-conditioning. “That cat is Jacques, who lives here, unfortunately, as much as I tell Benna it’s absolutely ridiculous to have a cat in a costume shop, especially one as invested in creating misery as he is. Seriously. I smiled at him once, and the next day he sneakily peed in my purse.”

Jacques wailed a wail of pride mixed with existential distress.

“I’d step away if I were you,” said Phoebe.

Luckily, before Jacques could do any damage, Benna emerged from her office in the back of the shop. She was a white woman wearing all gray silk, a pair of high-waisted silk trousers and a silk button-down shirt, and her hair, big and curly and pushed back from her face, seemed to be a kind of controlled chaos, unkempt and exactly in place at the same time. Like Phoebe, she wore a measuring tape slung around her neck, and she spoke about a mile a minute.

“Celia Gilbert! Welcome,” said Benna, extending a hand for me to shake. “Oh, good, you’ve met Phoebe. Phoebe’s been with us three seasons now. Anyone in the shop can help you with questions you might have, but you can trust that Phoebe has the answer.”

I nodded and smiled.

“Remind me where you’re coming to us from?” Benna asked.

“Just two hours south? Near San Jose. It’s a town called Courtside.”