You walked in for a hat. Somewhere between the lace rack and the fitting room mirror, that plan dissolved completely.

Now you're watching yourself in that narrow reflection — straps sliding off shoulders, fabric pooling at your feet, the fluorescent hum overhead making your skin glow warm and deliberate.

The shopping bag sits forgotten by the door. This is what you actually came for — the stolen moment, the locked latch, the quiet thrill of being undressed somewhere you absolutely shouldn't be.