After a short break I slowly come to my feet, my arms shaking slightly as I walk up to shift the damn thing across the room. As I reach out to grapple with the massive thing once more time I pause, my head shaking from side to side.
"There has to be something inside this thing" I grumble, trying to justify why I was struggling to move the giant piece of furniture. Reaching down to the handles I pull it open, my eyes going wide as I stare at the racks of well hung outfits.
"I knew it, I..." I cheer, my excitement turning to a low groan as my shoulders slump. "Why didn't I check before I moved this fucking..." I grumble, my head perking up as I look at the clothes dangling inside.
Jostling as if freshly hung up I glance between four rather complete sets of clothes, the slight swing in the hangers lasting longer for some than for others as dangling pairs of shoes swing and lurch from the old wooden frames.
A synthetic and extremely light white top hangs limply from a coat hanger, the chest emblazoned with a a small printed falcon over the left pectoral. The hems of the short sleeves are a bright vibrant red, the same red as the set of tight shorts draped over the cross bar of the same coat hanger.
Dangling from the top sit a pair of freshly cleaned cleats, the shiny black shoe looking almost new while the spikes beneath appear to have taken more than a little wear and tear.
"Did this used to belong to a member of Latham's soccer team?" I mutter, leaning in to look at the familiar falcon and the college's team colors. They were the same across the board, a match for the 'School Seal' that had led to the unified red and white scheme.
My eyebrow cocks as I look over to the next set of clothes, my lips curling a little as I try to piece together how these all fit together.
Sitting messily hung beside the soccer uniform sits a plain white polo top, the beginning of some elegantly designed purple and green logo inching into view on the chest pocket. The image is lost however beneath the large and woolly pine green sweater that drapes over the far smaller top. Stray strands of fluff stick up from the frumpy sweater, the whole thing looking like a static-cling nightmare.
A long black pleated maxi skirt descends from beneath the upper half of the outfit, a slight set of bulges from beneath the thick black material outlining a hidden set of shoes.
"Maybe that's her old school..." I begin to mutter, cocking an eyebrow as I go to reach for the sweater. "I just don't recognize that logo, is it from around here or...?" I muse, pausing both my train of thought and my extending hand as I spot something from far further away.
A long pink yukata with small white flowers printed into the fabric hangs neatly from one of the hangers, the short sleeved summer dress sitting tied up at the waist tightly with a broad dark purple band. Streaks of silvery white thread run across the plum colored waistband, the stitching forming long vines with elegantly sewn flowers running the length.
A set of sandals hang from the internal cross bar, the wooden shoes looking relatively old but with little if any use. Dangling along side them is a small paper umbrella, the various colorful flowers having been printed on the paper top and appearing more like a souvenir than anything else.
"Huh..." I mutter, tilting my head as I look over the foreign dress. "Okay..." I continue, rubbing my nose as I try to wrap my head around all this. "Maybe all this was meant to go to a thrift store or something, and I just... stole them?" I weakly chuckle, rubbing the back of my neck as the awkwardness sinks in.
Looking to the last outfit I find something far specific and more grounded. Folded through the center of the hanger sits a long large pair of heavily worn and washed out blue jeans, the knees and ankles in particularly looking drained of color and threadbare. Paints and stains of all kinds dot their way across the light blue pants, years of working with the colorful materials leaving the jeans looking like a Jackson Pollock.
A soft and comfortable fabric sports bra hangs dangles from one edge of the wooden hanger, the subtle weight tilting the wooden frame slightly while the heavy jeans work to keep it level. The bra itself appears to have been saved the heavy splattering that the jeans had endured, the dark gray fabric only sporting a few droplets of white and blue.
Still rubbing the back of my neck I look to my old wardrobe, my mind shifting to the fact I would still need to move my clothes across and get rid of these ones somehow. As I try to think of where the nearest thrift store is I reach out, my hand grabbing at the...
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