That was how I ended up spending the next two weeks rebuilding a dress from another century.
I watched tutorials. I bought beads from the craft store with money I had been saving for shoes. I removed the sleeves, reshaped the neckline, tightened the waist, and added a soft layer of fabric over the skirt so it moved better when I walked.
Every night after homework, I locked myself in my room and worked until my fingers cramped.
The day of prom, I brought the dress into Grandma’s room before I got ready. Her breathing was shallow, but when I held it up, she smiled in this faraway, aching way.
« You repaired it, » she said.
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