White linen. Hand-stitched borders in pink thread. At the center, a skull in a wide-brimmed hat, a flower held between its teeth.

This is not mourning dress. It is the garment you wear to close a chapter with your hands open rather than clenched. A farewell to the versions of you that carried weight, loved without return, stayed too long, and kept going anyway.

One of a kind. There will not be another.