The boutique was quiet and polished, the kind of place where everything feels carefully arranged. Soft music played in the background, and customers moved slowly between displays, dressed in tailored coats and designer shoes.
That’s when I noticed him.
An elderly man stood near the entrance, holding a simple jacket in his hands. His clothes were modest, and he looked a little out of place among the glittering shelves and confident shoppers. A few people glanced at him, some with curiosity, others with subtle amusement. I could sense the unspoken judgment in the room.
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