Mr Wu would never know why I dressed this way, nor that I knew the secrets of his little Green book. I looked at everything with a new eye in the store that day. Mr Wu’s artistry was not actually visible upon first inspection, his mixture of seamless flow and shocking eccentric were crafted to gently begin testing your boundaries, to lead you to begin testing them yourself, so that when you arrived at the end of the journey through the emporium, you were already sold on whatever mystery was behind the secret door, the only question that remained, is would he let you through that jade portal? I returned to my post, and looked in the mirror behind me, noting that I was as much on display as any of the items, yet another of Mr Wu’s possessions. That thought caused me to catch my breath with a gasp. Mr Wu looked over, and frowned slightly. His eyes drifted down the line of my ear, my falling golden hair, and neck, my shoulder, down to the swell of my breast before he frowned. I looked. Most of them had been with the VA or at Walter Reed and had been useless, hoping to give me some pills and get me out of their hair. Shemel asked me about my service in Iraq and whether that was affecting me, along with the standard questions about whether I was sleeping or having nightmares or having flashbacks about the shooting. He seemed satisfied that I wasn’t a danger to myself or anybody else, but told me to keep his card, in case I had any issues with PTSD. I told him I would and put it on a bulletin board at the apartment.The following week I was ordered to be at the station on Monday at four in the afternoon, in uniform, and to report to Chief Jefferson’s office. I didn’t know if that was good or bad, but I obeyed my orders. I felt silly with my duty belt and an empty holster, so I left that in my locker down in the basement. Several people were smiling as I went through, but they could have been smiling about the weather for all I knew. I got there early and sat on a bench.
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