When Lidia bought the dress, she said it was for herself. She said it to the saleswoman, to her sister, and later to the mirror, because it sounded mature and safe.

Then she wore it to a dinner where her husband spent most of the first hour talking about parking. Across the restaurant, a man at another table noticed the slit when she stood up. Lidia did not smile at him exactly. She only paused with her hand on the back of the chair and felt the answer arrive before she was brave enough to ask the question. The next version of that feeling did not happen in public at all; it lit up on a phone screen.