The fluorescent lights of the department store hummed like a headache. Leo stared at a wall of denim that felt more like a math problem than a wardrobe choice. He pulled a pair off the rack—flimsy, heavy on the spandex, and designed to disintegrate after three washes. "You won't find them there," a voice murmured.
She didn't point to a rack. She looked at his build, nodded, and pulled a single pair from a wooden shelf. They were stiff—almost enough to stand up on their own—and a deep, unwashed navy. where to buy good quality jeans
He realized then that good quality wasn't about the brand on the leather patch—it was about a fabric that grew better with the life he lived in it. The fluorescent lights of the department store hummed