A set of dresses are hung away from the other clothing that Fillie had for sale.
What makes them special? You wonder as you walk closer, peering intently at them.
Strange story behind them two…
You start at the shopkeep’s voice, turning to look at her.
Her gold eyes are settled on the pair of dresses, the memory of a smile on her lips.
They used to be mine. Mice thought they could make them theirs, so I took ‘em out.
It’s hard to imagine the broad shouldered shop keep in such finery. Maybe if she washed the black garden dirt from her cheek and pulled the early golden leaves from here hair it would be easier. But you imagine she would look rather handsome in a dress such as that.
