Lyse wandered through the familiar halls of the building that housed the fashion atelier, a few curious glances were flung in her direction but she ignored them and got into the elevator.
As she got to her department, she felt a strange sense of déjà vu washing over her, an unease, a feeling that she was not supposed to be there. She shrugged it off, attributing it to after effects of her coma, after all this was one of her favorite places to be in.
The whirring of sewing machines, the rustle of fabrics, the hurried footsteps of designers and assistants – it all felt so familiar. She navigated the labyrinthine corridors with an almost instinctive ease, her feet leading her towards her old office.
