Not because Camden once mocked its simplicity.
Not as a response to Sloane’s red.
Not to remind anyone of the past.
I simply liked wearing it.
My place card awaited at the front table.
“Elena Hart — Director, Hart Legacy Trust.”
I traced the printed name.
Then I shifted the card.
Only slightly.
One seat along.
A junior Community Partnerships manager sat at the table’s edge, nearly obscured by a column.
Switching our cards visibly frightened her.
“Ms. Hart, I can’t take your seat.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s yours.”
I smiled reassuringly.
“So was the other one.”
She seemed puzzled.
That was fine.
Understanding wasn’t necessary.
The chandeliers lowered in brightness.
Conversation quieted.
A speaker stepped onstage to discuss leadership.
Briefly, memories threatened to overwhelm me.
Camden addressing the crowd.
Sloane’s clapping.
Hundreds of eyes turning toward me.
The guard drawing near.
The shame scorching my skin.
