Quinn's Arc

Chapter 3 of 3

Quinn needed more materials than the department store could offer. The magazines showed display artists using custom backdrops, specialized lighting, and unique props he'd never seen before. His department store had clothes and accessories, but nothing that would make his work stand out from every other window in the city. He packed his two notebooks into a canvas bag and stepped onto the sidewalk. The nameless city had to have suppliers somewhere—places where real display artists bought their materials. Quinn walked three blocks before he spotted a building with rolled fabrics visible through the front window. He pushed through the door and found rows of textiles in every color, organized by weight and texture. His transparent fingers ran across velvet, silk, and canvas. In the back corner sat spools of wire, wooden frames, and paint supplies. Everything a display artist could need. Quinn pulled out his notebook and started a supply list, his handwriting precise and measured. This place would give him what the department store couldn't—the tools to build displays that people would remember. He selected six yards of sheer fabric, the kind that caught light and moved with air. The material felt delicate between his ghostly fingers, almost as transparent as he was. Quinn draped it over a wooden beam on the counter, testing how it fell. The fabric created shadows and depth, transforming the simple beam into something worth looking at. He added it to his list along with three more wooden beams and a set of metal hooks. These ethereal draped curtains would frame his next window display, giving it the dramatic flair he'd seen in the magazines. Quinn carried his supplies back to the department store and spent the afternoon installing the beams above his largest window. He hung the sheer fabric in careful loops, adjusting each drape until the folds matched his sketch exactly. When he pulled the curtains closed, they hid the window completely. When he opened them, they framed the display like a stage reveal. Quinn practiced the motion seven times, timing how long it took for the fabric to settle. This was how real display artists worked—they didn't just arrange mannequins, they created moments. He stepped outside to view the effect from the sidewalk. The curtains gave his window weight and purpose, announcing that something worth seeing waited behind them. For the first time since becoming a ghost, Quinn felt like a real artist. Over the next week, Quinn walked every street within twelve blocks of the department store. He mapped out three more supplier shops, two lighting stores, and a place that sold only paint and brushes. Each location went into his notebook with its address and specialty items. He discovered a small studio where someone had left behind reference books about famous display artists and their techniques. Quinn read each page twice, studying photographs of window displays that had stopped crowds. One photo showed a mannequin dressed in layers of fabric and jewelry, positioned like a statue in a park. The caption said the display had made the artist known across three cities. Quinn sketched the pose in his notebook, noting how the clothing created clean lines and the accessories added focus points. He selected his best mannequin and spent two days building an outfit that matched the technique—a jacket with a high collar, three necklaces at different lengths, boots polished until they reflected light. When he finished, the mannequin looked like it belonged in a museum. Quinn placed it in his window behind the curtains, then stepped outside and pulled them open. The reveal worked perfectly. This was what the city needed to see—displays that showed skill and attention. This was how he would build his reputation.