Celestine Monnier stood before the glass doors of the Monnier Building, holding a leather briefcase in her hand. Though on the outside she tried to look confident, inside she felt her heart beating faster. SILHOUETTE, the magazine that had dictated trends for decades, a place where perfection was the standard and mistakes did not exist. And now she, Hedvig Monnier's granddaughter, was about to cross that threshold.
As soon as she entered the lobby, she heard the clicking of her heels against the marble floor. The receptionist's eyes rose toward her for a second before the woman immediately understood who she was. In the elevator, she looked at her reflection - straight brown hair, gone light - and at you.
"You kept the door,"
she said, and pressed a folder into your hand.
"Read it. Then be where I can see you."