A perfect circle of polished dark surface.
The kind of stage lighting designed to make everything outside it cease to exist.
Daniella stood in the doorway and took the room in.
It was not large, but it had been arranged with deliberate purpose.
A mirror covered the entire far wall from floor to ceiling, reflecting the amber light like molten glass. In the reflection she could see her own figure, small, bruised, and still wearing the white dress that had begun the day as preparation for one kind of life and had since become something she could barely bear to look at.
Along the left wall stood a rack of clothing.
Dark fabrics.
Minimal cuts.
Garments that existed for one specific function and no other.
A speaker rested in the corner, silent for now.
And at the far end of the room, positioned to face the circle of light, sat a single chair.
Santiago was already in it.
