Edward stirred awake in his bed, the remnants of a vivid dream clinging to his mind like morning fog. In it, he had been strolling down the bustling streets of the city, the cool autumn breeze rustling against a burnt coral floral skirt that swayed with each step. Paired with a plum blouse that hugged his frame just right, he felt an odd mix of exhilaration and vulnerability. People passed by without a second glance, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. But now, in the dim light of his room, the 24-year-old blinked at the ceiling, shaking off the surreal imagery. It wasn't the first time he'd dreamed of slipping into his mother's clothes and venturing out among the crowds.

A knock at the door pulled him back to reality. His mother, LaShanda, a poised 57-year-old with sharp eyes and a no-nonsense demeanor, poked her head in. "Edward, have you seen my floral skirt set? The one with the autumn roses and the plum top? I can't find it anywhere."

Edward sat up, rubbing his eyes. "Uh, no, Mom. Did you check your closet?"

LaShanda raised an eyebrow, her gaze lingering on him for a moment before she strode across the room to his own closet. She flung open the doors, rummaging through his shirts and jeans. There, hanging neatly among his things, was the exact outfit-the burnt coral skirt with its floral pattern and the matching plum blouse.

"What is this doing in your closet?" she asked, pulling it out and holding it up like evidence in a trial.

Edward stared, his heart skipping a beat. "I... I don't know. Maybe you put it there by mistake?"