The weather was perfect. The sun was shining brightly on the horizon as Angie walked out of the driveway.

Autumn was her favorite season. The smell of fallen leaves and earthy mist enhanced visually with the various shades of reds, browns, and greens painting the hillside and trees line up along the street. The vibrant colors inspire her to mix and match different colors making her autumn collection as the biggest hits each year. The contrasting color with the white snow in December makes her wardrobe stood out even more.

She hailed a taxi to bring her to the city center. A routine she needed to get used to until she overcomes her trauma in driving. Riding the train or bus is out of the question. She is, after all, Angie Fernandez.

A woman in a grey tracksuit and white sneakers passed by. Her hair wrapped in a bundle with no makeup on. She stopped and scouted her, raising her had to measure her in the air. Closing her eyes, she was stripping her to her bare essentials. Putting on the clothes, she wisped from thin air, a white-blouse and beige-skirt ensemble accessorize with nude pumps, long gold necklace, and diamond stud earrings. Voila. The woman was utterly transformed into a beautiful young woman strutting the runway of Milan, ready to conquer the world.

A taxi stopped in front of her. She slid inside the car, asked the driver to bring her to La Boutique de Prague along Boulevard Champlain. While in transit, she re-imagined the design she had in mind, sketching and scribbling every detail, choosing the fabric and right swatches. Then she has her team cut and sews the design. Vividly remembering how her shop would be cramped in on a day like this.

Back in the days when she was a nameless designer, she would ask her friends and classmates to wear her clothes. She also brought in random stranger, detected by her fashion police, for a complete makeover. This started her business and became a great marketing strategy for her boutique. Soon, people were passing kind words about her, making word-of-mouth her best marketing strategy ever. Before she knew it, models and celebrities started to ask for her designs. And then the whos who in Canada began seeking her design. After a few years, she made it to the fashion week in Paris and New York. Her name became a brand, Angel's work.

"We are here," the driver said, stopping the taxi right in front of a posh boutique. Like her old shop, the workshop and office were on the 2nd floor and the showroom on the first. Handing bills to the driver, she slid out of the taxi sweeping her eyes at the entirety of the building. The facade was astonishing with the Chateau Frontenac in the background.

The salty smell of the sea and faint chirping of the birds were heard against the beeps and skids of the vehicles along the bustling Boulevard of Champlain. Starching contrast of St. Lawrence river on her left and the architectural structure on the right made the place inviting and inspiring, luring people from all walks of life. Le Boutique de Prague perched on the sloping hill, getting the best view of both worlds.

Angie let out a big sigh as she walked inside the store. She looked around to ask someone, but no one was in sight. She backed out again checking if the store was opened as she can clearly remember the door was open awhile back. How else can she come in? As she wandered around the space, checking for the clothes on the rack, a voice came out from behind her, "Sorry, but we are not open yet."

"Oh! I see I am not here to shop, though. Would Lindsey be here by any chance?" Angie asked while checking some of the dresses on the hanger.

"Are you referring to Lindsey Praque?" the lady dressed in a beige blouse and skirt ensemble with a loose white bowtie. That must be their uniform, she whispered to herself, so tacky.

"Yes."

"Yes. Ms. Prague works here, but no, she is not here yet," although the girl perhaps in her 30s smiled broadly, Angie sensed the sarcasm in her voice.

"I see. That's fine. Where is her office?"

"I am sorry. Am I missing something? Can I have your name first before I send you there?" She leaned closer to Angie to scrutinize her face. But she was busy checking the clothes, she loved the color combinations but not the design and fabric. No wonder Lindsey hired her. She thought to herself.

She turned around, removed her glasses, tossed her hair in the air with a brow raised as she said, "You mean you don't know me?!"

She smirked, "no, I don't think so."

"Really?" She held her chin high, "You must be new here."

"Oh! How did you know?" her eyes widened intrigued at how inquisitive she was.

"Anyone who has been in the fashion industry of Canada knows who I am. I am sorry to hear that you are not part of the elite squad. Tell you what, if you want to stay in this industry, you must start brushing up."

"I am sorry?"

"Oh, Ms. Fernandez, you are here." Another voice came from the other end of the room.

"Hi," she replied nonchalantly.

"My name is Celine, reaching out her hand, I was the one you to talk to the other day. If you remember?"

"Yes. I believe so."

"Ms. Prague is not here yet as she is flying from Milan. She will be here in the afternoon, though," Celine turned to the store clerk, "Thank you, Maria."

"Okay. Well, I can wait until then. But I guess you need to start educating your staff here about the fashion industry. I don't think they are not knowledgeable enough."

"I will take note of that," Celine winked at the saleslady and mouth the words, "I will take it from here. Go."

"Please follow me. We usually take the back door to the office, but you can always take the front one if you are coming from the old Quebec. Would you like some coffee?"

"No thanks, I don't drink coffee," she replied as she followed her to the stairs leading to the second floor.

Her eyes wandered around the fashion design studio workspace. It was as large as her previous store, except theirs is a loft-style and not as colorful and vibrant. The first floor was where they put all the designs, mannequins, various clothes, sewing machines, threads, and accessories. Everything that a fashion designer could ask for. And, the office spaces where designs come to life on paper were located in the loft, as explained by Celine.

As she walked into the office, the first thing she noticed was the large grey sofa in the middle of the room. It was separated from the other spaces with a carpet, adorned with whitewashed coffee and side table, floral accents. On either side of the enormous window were two large Morrocan rugs. At the adjacent wall were a new woven wall art and a table decorated with flowers and candles in mason jars. The room smelled like cotton and lavender combined, which all reminded her of her friend's taste.

"Okay. Suit yourself. You can sit here while we prepare the documents for you," she opened the door to her right, then pop out her head, "I like your dress by the way," she smiled.

Her red dress did stand out from the room. Angie sat on the L-shaped couch, waiting for Celine to come back. Looking around her made her miss the old studio a few blocks away from their house. As her mind wandered, her eyes started to droop, feeling the strain from the last few days of sleepless nights. She browsed through the catalog on the coffee table; her muscles relaxed with the scent of lavender in the air.

Angie's back was against the door, as she side-stepped, a beautiful red flowing dress was on the mannequin. It was a piece of art that everyone applauded her for it. Suddenly, a flame engulfed the mannequin.

"Ms. Hernandez, Ms. Hernandez," Celine stood next to her while Angie was propped on the sofa. She must have been too tired that she dozed off unexpectedly.

She sat straight and fix her dress, bent her head sideways wrinkling her eyebrows, wondering what her dream meant. "Yeah. Ummm. What should we do next?"

Celine led her up to the loft's meeting room. She handed her a piece of paper and a pen. "This is your contract, please feel free to read it first before signing it. I am afraid Ms. Prague won't be here today. She wanted to tell you that your first day at work will officially start on Monday, the 28th of October."

"Thank you. I will just go through this and hand them over to you once I am done." Angie replied. It was an uneventful day in the office, yet her dreams had caught her off guard. "Get a hold of yourself, Angie. Having those nerve jitters is a normal reaction for your first day at work. Remember, you are not just an employee, YOU are Angie Fernandez."

Sighing loudly, she looked at the piece of paper in front of her, read all the chapters, and signed it afterward. Her comeback might have not been explosive, but she vowed to herself to make her presence be felt. She stood up, gathered the papers, and handed them over to Celine.

By then, the atelier was more crowded as staff started clocking in for the day. Several of the team looked at her, gawked at the recognition as they whispered to each other. Angie caught this, so she walked past them, chin held up as she let her red dress flow with her leaving traces of her perfume in the air.

As Angie stepped out of the boutique, she smelled the salty wind from the nearby river. The wind made her walk afloat as she threaded the street of Rue du Petit Champlain. Mesmerized at the different stalls, bars, restaurants, and architecture, she saw on the road. They have been living in Quebec for some time, but this was the first time that she had enjoyed the walk along this busy street with fresh eyes, figuratively and literally.

Although it had only been a year when she lost her sight, the fashion industry has changed so much throughout the year. Designs fly off the rack every season, that's four seasons she had missed so far. Taking out her smartphone, she took pictures of items that she would like to incorporate in her design. Her red dress flowing gracefully as she maneuvered along the strips oblivious to the stares she was getting from passersby. She had been too immersed with her surroundings and did not notice that she had arrived at the Funiculaire du Vieux-Quebec. The last time she rode, it was when she was in high school. A wave of nostalgia hit her as she boarded the funicular which connects directly to the back of Fairmont Le Chateau Frontenac, the iconic landmark in Quebec.

Meanwhile, Vince was coming out from the Consulate General of the United States of America, which was located next to the Chateau. He decided to tour the area for a change that he had not been able to do so for the last few weeks since he arrived in Quebec. Often he wondered why he was there in the first place. But, he followed his instinct anyway until it led him to the Monument of Samuel de Champlain. As he turned the corner, he saw a flowing red dress right at the corner of his eye. The lady in red's back was all he saw as she slid onto a taxi. For some reason, he had a gnawing feeling to follow that lady wearing a red dress. But now, she was gone.