Chapter 2 — Tailor Shop at the End of Third Alley

Chau tried turning the unnamed shirt inside out and discovered that the shoulders were sewn with a stitch that was much smaller than the body. The tailor tried to make the shirt look like a new uniform but still kept the old fabric. Ms. Van said that is how people cover a story without erasing it.

An carries an extra tape measure with colored lines engraved on the handle. He told each person in the store to use one color to avoid mistaken orders. Chau asked what her color was. An gave her purple. She asked if it was because of the pieces of cloth. He replied because she always found her way to the hidden place.

At school, Ngoc sent a notice asking anyone who left a shirt at the door to receive a code. One person replied with a photo of a T-shaped button. Khoa said that photo could be the sender, but Chau said it was just evidence. They agreed not to guess their identity from a button.

In the evening, Mrs. Van let Chau open the second drawer. Inside were expired receipt cards, each with a hole punched in the corner. She said people who don't come back often want to forget, not always want to be found. Chau understands that keeping the shirt anonymous can be a way of respecting the absent person.

When the shop closed, An stood outside to check the alley. He discovered that the purple thread on the mirror of the gray car was not thread; That's a torn cargo tie. There are machine oil stains on the line like those at Aunt Huong's counter. He decided not to report it yet, because one oil stain wasn't enough.

Chau looked at him taking notes and asked why he was patient. An said that if a wrong shirt is delivered, the recipient can wait all day. She realized that patience was not soft; it was forged by people who had no money to buy back what was lost.

Mrs. Van forced Chau to learn how to read a shirt before it was repaired. She spread the shirt on the table, smoothed out each fold, and showed her the places where the fabric had taken pressure: the elbows, armpits, neck, and around the buttons. The wearer may say the shirt is torn in one place, but the thread always shows where the body has moved the most.

Chau asked if he could read his personality from his shirt. Ms. Van said one should not judge the wearer, but one can know which hand they work with, which side they usually carry their bag on, and whether they have a habit of pulling their sleeve when nervous. Chau remembers the girl standing in front of her during the flag-raising ceremony always pulled the ribbon when she was nervous.

An brought a box of needles and placed them next to the machine. He asked Aunt Huong to give it to him, then stood and watched Chau thread the thread. She skewed the thread three times. The fourth time, she stabbed her finger.

“Don't look at the finger,” An said. “Look at the tip of the needle.”

“You talk as if Kim has a mind of her own.”

"Yes. It always looks for the best software."

Chau withdrew his hand and told him to give him a band-aid. An also has small boxes available, divided by color. She asked why the delivery person needed to wear a band-aid. He said there were many sharp things on the street, including customers who didn't read the address carefully.

While they worked, a sixth grade boy came to get his shirt. The boy did not have a ticket, he only remembered that the shirt had a star-shaped patch. Mrs. Van found exactly three identical shirts. The boy paid with coins, two thousand short, and then turned to leave. Mrs. Van gave him another button and said he could pay by holding the back door for five minutes.

Chau asked her if she really needed a boy to hold the door. She said no, but people should be paid with the opportunity to keep their word.

The purple cloth is still in the box. Chau wants to know where it was cut from. Mrs. Van asked her to compare the edge of the fabric with the rolls in the shop. No rolls match. An placed the T-shaped button next to it and realized that the groove behind the button was worn in one direction. He guessed once sewn onto a bag that was constantly pulled.

“A student's pocket?”

“Or delivery man's bag.”

An took his old coat from the car. The right pocket is sewn with purple thread, but the stitching is rougher. He asked Aunt Huong to fix it after he fell off the bike. Chau looked at the two threads and saw someone using the same color but using a different knot.

Ms. Van did not let them come to any conclusions. She asked three questions: who made the shirt, who wore it, and who wanted others to think the shirt belonged to them. Chau wrote in the notebook, upset because the third question had no measurement.

In the afternoon, Ngoc sent the class's list of revised applications. There is one name left blank, with a phone number that cannot be reached. The shoulder and arm measurements are the same as the nameless shirt. Chau called to try. The phone rang once then turned off. The reply message only has a scissors icon.

An said it could be an automatic avatar. Chau said no one uses scissors as a symbol if they don't want to mention cutting. Khoa joined the chat group, sent a photo of a cartoon pair of scissors and asked if he was counted as a witness. Ngoc deleted the photo, Khoa sent another photo.

Tuesday night, Mrs. Van taught Chau how to sew hidden stitches. The needle goes into the folded edge, the thread emerges very briefly and then disappears. If pulled hard, the fabric wrinkles; If loose, the seam will burst. Chau slows down, no longer wanting to prove that he is fast.

When she was almost finished, An stood outside the door and asked the person asking her name if she would come back. Chau said no. He looked at the purple cloth and said that person did not need a shirt; they need to know the store remembers.

Chau asked what he remembered. An pointed to M.V.K's embroidery and replied: "Someone had it sewn to fit me."

That night, the woman in the gray shirt did not return, but a new bag of clothes appeared on the door handle. There was no piece of paper on the bag. Only the shoulder measurement and the words: **I cannot return the shirt, because the wearer has left.**

The shirt was unclaimed

Ms. Van read the piece of paper twice, then folded it and put it in the drawer under the desk. That drawer has three keys, one for opening, one for backup and one that she keeps separately in her pocket.

“Don't ask for the sender's name,” she said.

Chau looked at her. “So after I fix it, who will I pay it to?”

“Wait for them to come get it.”

“What if they don't come?”

“Then the shirt has another day to lie still.”

An leaned the car against the wall. He didn't look surprised, as if he had heard confusing answers at this shop many times. Seeing this, Chau became even more upset.

“Do you know what?”

“I know delivery people shouldn't arbitrarily open customers' drawers.”

“I didn't ask you to open the drawer.”

“You asked with your eyes.”

Mrs. Van turned on the sewing machine. The clicking sound of a needle interrupted the argument. She turned the shirt inside out and showed Chau the seam in the pocket. The fabric was replaced with a darker blue, but inside there was a hidden piece of white fabric. On that piece of cloth were embroidered three letters: M.V.K.

“Mong Van?” Chau guessed.

“It's none of your business.”

“If it's embroidered with your name, why not?”

"Because there are names people embroider to remember. There are also names people embroider to hide."

An bent down to pick up the button that fell at his feet. He placed it in his palm, turning it to the back. The button face has a T-shaped groove.

“This button is not from the current uniform shirt,” he said. “This type was used in the old set, about ten years ago.”

Chau looked at him. “You remember the buttons from ten years ago?”

“I remember the things Aunt Van wouldn't let me throw away.”

Mrs. Van glared at An, but did not deny it. She assigned Chau the job of removing the purple thread. She held it pulled, this time so carefully that An had to pull the chair away.

“Cut it,” he said. “I stay out of the danger zone.”

“Do you think I will cut off your ear?”

“No. You could cut the chair if it had a thread.”

Chau tried not to laugh. She removed each stitch. Under the fabric, a small piece of rolled paper fell out. The paper is thin, the edges are yellowed. Ms. Van immediately turned off the phone.

“Let her.”

But Chau saw part of the inscription: **Measuring enough for thirty-two people, missing one meter on the east wall.**

Mrs. Van took the piece of paper and folded it into four. An looked out the alley door.

“Is someone looking for this set?”

"Maybe."

“And they don't want their names asked?” Chau asked.

Mrs. Van did not answer. She gave Chau the shirt and told her to sew the bag with new fabric. While working, Chau realized her hands were shaking a bit. Mrs. Van can sew a straight line without looking, but today the needle went astray twice.

At school, 11C is preparing for a uniform fair. Ngoc turned the corner of the classroom into a desk to receive orders, posting price lists according to paper color. Khoa, An's friend, brought a camera to shoot a promotional video but kept accidentally filming his face.

“You have to film the product,” Ngoc said.

"I'm an illustration model. This shirt doesn't fit, look at me and you'll understand."

An pulled Khoa out of the frame and gave Chau a box of buttons. On the lid of the box there are T-shaped buttons of the same type.

"Auntie said to bring it to class. If you see any buttons with this notch, put them aside."

Chau did not ask why. She only took one pill and placed it next to the measurement paper in her pocket. The purple ink on the paper has blurred, but the shoulder measurement is still readable. It looks like the measurements of an 11th grader, not an adult.

Tuesday afternoon, the person who received the shirt did not come. Chau locked the shop at eight o'clock, the shirt still hanging on the hanger. An left first, but left a note next to the bike: "If someone asks for their name, if they want to take the shirt or want something back in the shirt."

Chau finished reading and went back inside. From the alley came the faint sound of running shoes. A figure stopped in front of the store, without knocking. Only the hand reached through the door, placed a piece of purple cloth and then withdrew.

On the piece of fabric there is a new stitch: **M.V.K — don't let them take it down before next Tuesday.**